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TRONTISPIEC  E.— saep.  o). 

COriUD      FKOM      "THB     ONLT      SDBE      QUIDS. 


THE 


DISTRICT   SCHOOL 


AS    IT    WAS. 


ONE   WHO   WENT   TO   IT, 


3cleb(seli    lEDIt(on. 


BOSTON: 

PHILLIPS,     SAMPSON    AND     COMPANY, 
110   Washington   Stezet. 

1850. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,   in  the  year  1850, 

By  PHILLIPS,   SAMPSON  &  CO., 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 

WRIOBT  AND  HASTT,  PRIMTSRB,  3  WATER  8TRBBT. 


AniMK 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  following  work  was  first  published  in  Boston  in  1833, 
and  was  received  with  unqualified  favor.  A  second  and 
larger  edition  was  issued  in  New  York  with  equal  success. 
Several  hundred  of  this  edition  were  purchased  by  a  dis- 
tinguished friend  of  education,  in  a  neighboring  state,  and 
distributed  for  the  purpose  of  suggesting  ideas  of  reform. 

It  was  republished  in  London  a  few  years  ago,  as  giving  a 
faithful  description  of  one  of  the  Institutions  of  New  England. 

Notwithstanding  these  evidences  of  the  value  of  the  book, 
and  repeated  calls  for  it  from  various  sources  ;  several  years 
have  elapsed  without  a  reprint.  There  ought  to  have  been 
one  before,  for  though  much  improvement  has  already  been 
attained,  the  imperfections  aimed  at  still  linger  in  many 
places  in  our  country. 

The  present  publishers  are  happy  now  to  make  up  the  de- 
ficiency by  a  new  edition  revised  by  the  Author,  Rev.  War- 
ren Burton.  It  is  hoped  that  it  will  be  deemed  particularly 
appropriate  to  School  Libraries,  and  not  unsuited  to  others ; 
that  it  will  be  sought  as  an  agreeable  gift  book  from  Teachers 
to  Pupils ;  and  lastly  that  it  will  ever  be  of  historical  use 
to  rising  generations,  educated  under  better  auspices,  as  ex- 
hibiting a  true  and  graphic  picture  of  "  The  District  School 
as  it  Was." 

PHILLIPS,  SAMPSON  &  CO., 
Boston,  Oct.,  1850.  Publishers. 


A    WORD 

To  the  glancing  Reader,  if  he  will  just  stop  a  moment 
and  see  what  it  is. 

This  little  volume  was  written  in  the  hope  that  it  would 
be  a  trifling  aid  to  that  improvement  which  is  going  on 
in  respect  to  common  schools.  It  was  also  intended  to 
present  a  pleasant  picture  of  some  peculiarities  which  have 
prevailed  in  our  country,  but  are  now  passing  away. 

It  is  trusted  that  no  one  who  has  kept  *  or  is  keeping 
a  district  school  after  the  old  fashion,  will  be  offended  at 
the  slight  degree  of  satire  he  will  meet  with  here.  Any 
one  of  due  benevolence  is  willing  to  be  laughed  at,  and 
even  to  join  in  the  laugh  against  himself,  if  it  will  but 
hasten  the  tardy  steps  of  improvement.  Indeed,  there 
are  quite  a  number  who  have  reason  to  believe  that  the 
author  has  here  sketched  some  of  his  own  school-keeping 
deficiences. 

It  may  be  reasonably  anticipated,  that  the  young  will 
be  the  most  numerous  readers  of  these  pages.  Some  scenes 
have  been  described,  the  sports  of  the  school-going  season 


*  Keep  school  ia  a  very  different  thing  from  teach  school,  accord- 
ing to  Mr.  Carter,  in  his  Essays  on  Popular  Education. 
1* 


PREFACE 

for  instance,  with  a  special  view  to  their  entertainment. 
It  is  trusted,  however,  that  the  older  may  not  find  it  un- 
pleasant to  recall  the  pastimes  of  their  early  years. 

Now  and  then  a  word  has  been  used  which  some  young 
readers  may  not  understand.  In  this  case  they  are  entreat- 
ed to  seek  a  dictionary,  and  find  out  its  meaning.  They 
may  be  assured  that  the  time  spent  in  this  way  will  not  be 
lost.  The  definition  thus  acquired  may  be  of  use  to  them 
the  very  next  book  they  shall  take  np,  or  at  least  in  the 
course  of  the  reading  their  future  leisure  will  allow  them  to 
enjoy. 

The  Reader  shall  no  longer  be  detained  from  the  experi- 
ence of  a  supposed  school-boy  ;  if  true  to  nature,  no  matter 
whether  it  really  be,  or  be  not,  that  of  the 

AUTHOB. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 
The  Old  School-House 11 

CHAPTER   II. 
First  Summer  at  School — Mary  Smith.        ...      17 

CHAPTER   III. 
The  Spelling  Book. 24 

CHAPTER   IV. 
First  Winter  at  School 29 

CHAPTER    V. 
Second  Summer — Mary  Smith  again.        ...      80 


VIU  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   VI. 

Third   Summer — Mehitabel  Holt  and   other  Instruct- 
resses.   41 

CHAPTER   VII. 
Little  Books  presented  the  Last  day  of  the  School.      .      47 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

Grammar — Young  Lady's  Accidence — Murray — Pars- 
ing— Pope's  Essay 54 

CHAPTER    IX. 

The  Particular  Master — Various  Methods  of  Punish- 
ment.   63 

CHAPTER    X. 

How  they  used  to  Read  in  the  Old  School-House  in 

District  No.  6 69 

CHAPTER    XI. 
How  they  used  to  Spell.        ......      80 

CHAPTER    XII. 

Mr.   Spoutsoond,  the  Speaking  Master — The  Exhibi- 
tion  92 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER    XIII. 
Learning  to  write. 107 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

Seventh  Winter,  but  not  ranch  about  it — Eighth  Win- 
ter— Mr.  Johnson — Good  Orders  and  but  little 
Punishing — A  story  about  Punishing — Ninth 
Winter 119 

CHAPTER    XV. 

Going    out — Making    Bows — Boys    coming    in — Girls 

going  out  and  coming  in 127 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

Noon — Noise  and  Dinner — Sports  at  School — Coasting — 
Snow-balling — A  certain  memorable  Snow-ball 
Battle 186 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

Arithmetic — commencement — progress — Late  Improve- 
ment in  the  Art  of  Teaching  it.  ...    147 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

Augustus  Starr,  the  Privateer  who  turned  Pedagogue — 
His  new  crew  Mutiny,  and  perform  a  singular 
Exploit. 164 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


Eleventh  Winter — Mr.  Silverson,  our  first  Teacher  from 
College — His  blunder  at  meeting  on  the  Sab- 
bath— His  Character  as  a  Schoolmaster.     .        .    163 


CHAPTER   XX. 

A  College  Master  again — His  Character  in  School,  and 
out — Our  first  attempts  at  Composition — Brief 
Sketch  of  another  Teacher.        ....    176 


CHAPTER    XXI. 
The  examination  at  the  closing  of  the  SchooL      .       .    186 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

The  Old  School-House  again — Its  appearance  the  last 
Winter — Why  so  long  occupied — A  new  one  at 
last. 197 


THE 


DISTRICT  SCHOOL  AS  IT  WAS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE    OLD    SCHOOL-HOUSE. 

The  Old  School-house,  as  it  used  to  be  call- 
ed, how  distinctly  it  rises  to  existence  anew 
before  the  eye  of  my  mind  !  Here  was  kept 
the  District  School  as  iiwas.  This  was  the 
seat  of  my  rustic  Alma  Mater,  to  borrow  a. 
phrase  from  collegiate  and  classic  use.  It  is 
now  no  more;  and  those  of  similar  construc- 
tion are  passing  away,  never  to  be  patterned 
again.  It  may  be  well,  therefore,  to  describe 
the  edifice  wherein  and  whereabout  occur- 
red many  of  the  scenes  about  to  be  recorded. 
I  would  have  future  generations  acquainted 


12  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

with  the  accommodations,  or  rather  dis-ac- 
commodaiions,  of  their  predecessors. 

The  Old  School-house  in  District  No.  5 
stood  on  the  top  of  a  very  high  hill,  on  the 
north  side  of  what  was  called  the  County 
road.  The  house  of  Capt.  Clark,  about  tea 
rods  off,  was  the  only  human  dwelling  with- 
in a  quarter  of  a  mile.  The  reason  why 
this  seminary  of  letters  was  perched  so  high 
in  the  air,  and  so  far  from  the  homes  of 
those  who  resorted  to  it,  was  this : — Here 
was  the  centre  of  the  district,  as  near  as 
surveyor's  chain  could  designate.  The 
people  east  would  not  permit  the  building 
to  be  carried  one  rod  further  west,  and  those 
of  the  opposite  quarter  were  as  obstinate  on 
their  side.  So  here  it  was  placed ;  and  this 
continued  to  be  literally  the  "hill  of  science" 
to  generation  after  generation  of  learners  for 
fifty  years. 

The  edifice  was  set  half  in  Capt.  Clark's 
field,  and  half  in  the  road.  The  wood-pile 
lay  in  the  corner  made  by  the  east  end  and 
the  stone  wall.  The  best  roof  it  ever  had 
over  it  was  the  changeful  sky,  which  was  a 


AS    IT    WAS.  13 

little  too  leaky  to  keep  ths  fuel  at  all  times 
fit  for  combustion,  without  a  great  deal  of 
puffing  and  smoke.  The  door  step  was  a 
broad  unhewn  rock,  brought  from  the  neigh- 
boring pasture.  It  had  not  a  flat  and  even 
surface,  but  was  considerably  sloping  from 
the  door  to  the  road  ;  so  that,  in  icy  times, 
the  scholars,  in  passing  out,  used  to  snatch 
from  the  scant  declivity  the  transitory  pleas- 
ure of  a  slide.  But  look  out  for  a  slip-up, 
ye  careless ;  for  many  a  time  have  I  seen 
urchin's  head  where  his  feet  were  but  a  sec- 
ond before.  And  once  the  most  lofty  and 
perpendicular  pedagogue  I  ever  knew,  be- 
came suddenly  horizontalized  in  his  egress. 
But  we  have  lingered  round  this  door- 
step long  enough.  Before  we  cross.it,  how- 
ever, let  us  just  glance  at  the  outer  side  of 
the  structure.  It  was  never  painted  by  man; 
but  the  clouds  of  many  years  had  stained  it 
with  their  own  dark  hue.  The  nails  were 
starting  from  their  fastness,  and  fellow- 
clapboards  were  becoming  less  closely  and 
warmly  intimate.  There  were  six  windows, 
which  here  and  there  stopped  and  distorted 


14  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

the  passage  of  light  by  fractures,  patches, 
and  seams  of  putty.  There  were  shutters 
of  board,  Uke  those  of  a  store,  which  were 
of  no  kind  of  use,  excepting  to  keep  the  win- 
dows from  harm  in  vacations,  when  they 
were  the  least  liable  to  harm.  They  might 
have  been  convenient  screens  against  the 
summer  sun,  were  it  not  that  their  shade 
was  inconvenient  darkness.  Some  of  these, 
from  loss  of  buttons,  were  fastened  back  by 
poles,  which  were  occasionally  thrown  down 
in  the  heedlessness  of  play,  and  not  replaced 
till  repeated  slams  had  broken  a  pane  of 
glass,  or  the  patience  of  the  teacher.  To 
crown  this  description  of  externals,  I  must 
say  a  word  about  the  roof.  The  shingles 
had  been  battered  apart  by  a  thousand  rains; 
and,  excepting  where  the  most  defective 
had  been  exchanged  for  new  ones,  they 
were  dingy  with  the  mold  and  moss  of  time. 
The  bricks  of  the  chimney-top  were  losing 
their  cement,  and  looked  as  if  some  high 
wind  might  hurl  them  from  their  smoky 
vocation. 

We  will  now  go  inside.     First,  there  is 


AS    IT    "WAS.  -  16 

an  entry  which  the  district  were  sometimes 
provident  enough  to  store  with  dry  pine 
wood,  as  an  antagonist  to  the  greenness  and 
wetness  of  the  other  fuel.  A  door  on  the 
left  admits  us  to  the  school  room.  Here  is 
a  space  about  twenty  feet  long  and  ten  wide, 
the  reading  and  spelling  parade.  At  the 
south  end  of  it,  at  the  left  as  you  enter,  was 
one  seat  and  writing  bench,  making  a  right 
angle  with  the  rest  of  the  seats.  This  was 
occupied  in  the  winter  by  two  of  the  oldest 
males  in  the  school.  At  the  opposite  end 
was  the  magisterial  desk,  raised  upon  a 
platform  a  foot  from  the  floor.  The  fire-place 
was  on  the  right,  half-way  between  the 
door  of  entrance  and  another  door  leading 
into  a  dark  closet,  where  the  girls  put  their 
outside  garments  and  their  dinner  baskets. 
This  also  served  as  a  fearful  dungeon  for 
the  immuring  of  offenders.  Directly  oppo- 
site the  fire-place  was  an  aisle,  two  feet  and 
a  half  wide,  running  up  an  inclined  floor  to 
the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  On  each  side 
of  this  vvere  five  or  six  long  seats  and  wri- 
ting benches,  for  the  accommodation  of  the 


16  THE    DISTKICT    SCHOOL 

school  at  their  studies.  In  front  of  these, 
next  to  the  spelling  floor,  were  low,  narrow- 
seats  for  abecedarians  and  others  near  that 
rank.  In  general,  the  older  the  scholar,  the 
further  from  the  front  was  his  location.  The 
windows  behind  the  back  seat  were  so  low 
that  the  traveler  could  generally  catch  the 
stealthy  glance  of  curiosity  as  he  passed. 
Such  was  the  Old  School-house  at  the  time 
I  first  entered  it.  Its  subsequent  condition 
and  many  other  inconveniencies  will  be  no- 
ticed hereafter. 


AS    IT    WAS.  17 


CHAPTER    II. 

FIRST    SUMMER    AT    SCHOOL MARY    SMITH. 

I  was  three  years  and  a  half  old  when  I 
first  entered  the  Old  School-house  as  an 
abecedarian.  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  have  set 
foot  on  the  first  step  of  learning's  ladder 
before  this;  but  I  had  no  elder  brother  or 
sister  to  lead  me  to  school,  a  mile  off;  and 
it  never  occurred  to  my  good  parents,  that 
they  could  teach  me  even  the  alphabet ;  or, 
perhaps,  they  could  not  afford  the  time,  or 
muster  the  patience  for  the  tedious  process. 
I  had,  however,  learned  the  name  of  capi- 
tal A,  because  it  stood  at  the  head  of  the 
colum;i,  and  was  the  similitude  of  a  harrow 
frame ;  of  O,  also,  from  its  resemblance  to  a 
hoop.  Its  sonorous  name,  moreover,  was  a 
frequent  passenger  through  my  mouth,  after 
I  had  begun  to  articulate;  its  ample  sound 
being  the  most  natural  medium  by  which 

2* 


18  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

man  born  unto  trouble  signifies  the  pains  of 
his  lot.  X,  too,  was  familiar,  as  it  seemed 
so  like  the  end  of  the  old  saw-horse  that 
stood  in  the  wood-shed.  Further  than  this 
my  alphabetical  lore  did  not  extend,  accord- 
ing to  present  recollection. 

I  shall  never  forget  my  first  day  of  scholar- 
ship, as  it  was  the  most  important  era  which 
had  yet  occurred  to  my  experience.  Behold 
me  on  the  eventful  morning  of  the  first  Mon- 
day in  June,  arrayed  in  my  new  jacket  and 
trowsers,  into  which  my  importance  had 
been  shoved  for  the  first  time  in  my  life. 
This  change  in  my  costume  had  been  defer- 
red till  this  day,  that  I  might  be  "all  nice 
and  clean  to  go  to  school."  Then  my  Sun- 
day hat  (not  of  soft  drab-colored  fur,  ye 
city  urchins,  but  of  coarse  and  hard  sheep's 
wool) — my  Sunday  hat  adorned  my  head 
for  the  first  time  in  common  week-day  use ; 
for  my  other  had  been  crushed,  torn,  and 
soiled  out  of  the  seemliness,  and  almost  out 
of  the  form,  of  a  hat.  My  little  new  basket, 
too,  bought  expressly  for  the  purpose,  was 
laden  with  'lection-cake  and  cheese  for  my 


AS    IT    WAS.  19 

dinner,  and  slung  upon  my  arm.  An  old 
Perry's  spelling-book,  that  our  boy  Ben 
used  at  the  winter  school,  completed  my 
equipment. 

Mary  Smith  was  my  first  teacher,  and  the 
dearest  to  my  heart  I  ever  had.  She  was  a 
niece  of  Mrs.  Carter,  who  lived  in  the  near- 
est house  on  the  way  to  school.  She  had 
visited  her  aunt  the  winter  before ;  and  her 
unclSj  being  chosen  committee  for  the  school 
at  the  town-meeting  in  the  spring,  sent  im- 
mediately to  her  home  in  Connecticut,  and 
engaged  her  to  teach  the  summer  school. 
During  the  few  days  she  spent  at  his  house, 
she  had  shown  herself  peculiarly  qualified 
to  interest,  and  to  gain  the  love  of  children. 
Some  of  the  neighbors,  too,  who  had  dropped 
in  while  she  was  there,  were  much  pleased 
with  her  appearance.  She  had  taught  one 
season  in  her  native  state ;  and  that  she 
succeeded  well,  Mr.  Carter  could  not  doubt. 
He  preferred  her,  therefore,  to  hundreds  near 
by ;  and  for  once  the  partiahty  of  the  rela- 
tive proved  profitable  to  the  district. 

Now  Mary  Smith  was  to  board  at  her 


20  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

uncle's.  This  was  deemed  a  fortunate  cir- 
cumstance on  my  account,  as  she  would 
take  that  care  of  me  on  the  way  which  was 
needful  to  my  inexperienced  childhood.  My 
mother  led  me  to  Mr.  Carter's,  to  commit 
me  to  my  guardian  and  instructor  for  the 
summer,  I  entertained  the  most  extrava- 
gant ideas  of  the  dignity  of  the  school-keep- 
ing vocation,  and  it  was  with  trembling  re- 
luctance that  I  drew  near  the  presence  of 
so  lovely  a  creature  as  they  told  me  Mary 
Smith  was.  But  she  so  gently  took  my 
quivering  little  hand,  and  so  tenderly  stoop- 
ed and  kissed  my  cheek,  and  said  such 
soothing  and  winning  words,  that  my  timid- 
ity was  gone  at  once. 

She  used  to  lead  me  to  school  by  the  hand, 
while  John  and  Sarah  Carter  gamboled  on, 
unless  1  chose  to  gambol  with  them;  but 
the  first  day,  at  least,  I  kept  by  her  side. 
All  her  demeanor  toward  me,  and  indeed 
toward  us  all,  was  of  a  piece  with  her  first 
introduction.  She  called  me  to  her  to  read, 
not  with  a  look  and  voice  as  if  she  were 
doing  a  duty  she  disliked,  and  was  deter- 


AS    IT    WAS.  21 

mined  I  should  do  mine  too,  like  it  or  not, 
as  is  often  the  manner  of  teachers ;  but  with 
a  cheerful  smile  and  a  softening  eye,  as  if 
she  were  at  a  pastime,  and  wished  me  to 
partake  of  it. 

My  first  business  was  to  master  the  A  B 
C,  and  no  small  achievement  it  was;  for 
many  a  little  learner  waddles  to  school 
through  the  summer,  and  wallows  to  the 
same  through  the  winter,  before  he  accom- 
plishes it,  if  he  happens  to  be  taught  in  the 
manner  of  former  times.  This  might  have 
been  my  lot,  had  it  not  been  for  Mary  Smith. 
Few  of  the  better  methods  of  teaching,  which 
now  make  the  road  to  knowledge  so  much 
more  easy  and  pleasant,  had  then  found 
their  way  out  of  or  into,  the  brain  of  the 
pedagogical  vocation.  Mary  went  on  in 
the  old  way  indeed  ;  but  the  whole  exercise 
was  done  with  such  sweetness  on  her  part, 
that  the  dilatory  and  usually  unpleasant 
task  was  to  me  a  pleasure,  and  consumed 
not  so  much  precious  time  as  it  generally 
does  in  the  case  of  heads  as  stupid  as  mine. 
By  the  close  of  that  summer,  the  alphabet 


22  THE    DISTKICT    SCHOOL 

was  securely  my  own.  That  hard,  and  to 
me  unmeaning,  string  of  sights  and  sounds 
were  bound  for  ever  to  my  memory  by  the 
ties  created  by  gentle  tones  and  looks. 

That  hardest  of  all  tasks,  sitting  becom- 
ingly still,  was  rendered  easier  by  her  good- 
ness. When  1  grew  restless,  and  turned 
from  side  to  side,  and  changed  from  posture 
to  posture,  in  search  of  relief  from  my  un- 
comfortableness,  she  spoke  words  of  sympa- 
thy rather  than  reproof.  Thus  I  was  wont 
to  be  as  quiet  as  I  could.  When  I  grew 
drowsy,  and  needed  but  a  comfortable  posi- 
tion to  drop  into  sleep  and  forgetfulness  of 
the  weary  hours,  she  would  gently  lay  me 
at  length  on  my  seat,  and  leave  me  just 
falling  to  slumber,  with  her  sweet  smile  the 
last  thing  beheld  or  remembered. 

Thus  wore  away  my  first  summer  at  the 
district  school.  As  I  look  back  on  it,  faintly 
traced  on  memory,  it  seems  like  a  beautiful 
dream,  the  images  of  which  are  all  softness 
and  peace.  I  recollect,  that,  when  the  last 
day  came,  it  was  not  one  of  light-hearted 
joy — it  was  one  of  sadness,  and  it  closed  in 


AS    IT    WAS.  23 

tears.  I  was  now  obliged  to  stay  at  home 
in  solitude,  for  the  want  of  playmates,  and 
in  weariness  of  the  passing  time,  for  the 
want  of  something  to  do;  as  there  was  no 
particular  pleasure  in  saying  A  B  C  all 
alone,  with  no  Mary  Smith's  voice  and  looks 
for  an  accompaniment. 


24  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

CHAPTER    III. 

THE   SPELLING-BOOK. 

As  the  spelling-book  was  the  first  manual 
of  instruction  used  in  school,  and  kept  in  our 
hands  for  many  years,  I  think  it  worthy  of 
a  separate  chapter  in  these  annals  of  the 
times  that  are  past.  The  spelling-book 
used  in  our  school  from  time  immemorial — 
immemorial  at  least  to  the  generation  of 
learners  to  which  I  belonged — was  thus  en- 
tilled  :  "  The  Only  Sure  Guide  to  the  Eng- 
lish Tongue,  by  William  Perry,  Lecturer  of 
the  English  Language  in  the  Academy  of 
Edinburgh,  and  author  of  several  valuable 
school-books."  What  a  magnificent  title ! 
To  what  an  enviable  superiority  had  its  au- 
thor arrived  !  The  Only  Sure  Guide !  Of 
course,  the  book  must  be  as  infallible  as  the 
catholic  creed,  and  its  author  the  very  Pope 
of  the  jurisdiction  of  letters. 
But  the  contents  of  the  volume  manifested 


AS    IT    WAS.  25 

most  clearly  the  pontifical  character  of  the 
illustrious  man ;  for,  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  thereof,  faith  and  memory  were  all 
that  was  demanded  of  the  novice.  The 
imderstanding  was  no  more  called  on  than 
that  of  the  devotee  at  his  Latin  mass-book. 
But  let  us  enter  on  particulars.  In  the  first 
place,  there  was  a  frontispiece.  We  little 
folks,  however,  did  not  then  know  that  the 
great  picture  facing  the  title-page  was  so 
denominated.  This  frontispiece  consisted 
of  two  parts.  In  the  upper  division,  there 
was  the  representation  of  a  tree  laden  with 
fruit  of  the  largest  description.  It  was  in- 
tended, I  presume,  as  a  striking  and  alluring 
emblem  of  the  general  subject,  the  particu- 
lar branches,  and  the  rich  fruits  of  educa- 
tion. But  the  figurative  meaning  was  above 
my  apprehension,  and  no  one  took  the  trou- 
ble to  explain  it.  I  supposed  it  nothing  but 
the  picture  of  a  luxuriant  apple-tree;  and  it 
always  made  me  think  of  that  good  tree  in 
ray  father's  orchard,  so  dear  to  my  palate, 
— the  pumpkin  sweeting. 

There  ran  a  ladder  from  the  ground  up 

3 


26  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

among  the  branches,  which  was  designed  to 
represent  the  ladder  of  learning;  but  of  this 
I  was  ignorant.  Little  boys  v/ere  ascending 
this  in  pursuit  of  the  fruit  that  hung  there 
so  temptingly.  Others  were  already  up  in 
the  tree,  plucking  the  apples  directly  from 
their  stems;  while  others  were  on  the  ground, 
picking  up  those  that  had  dropped  in  their 
ripeness.  At  the  very  top  of  the  tree,  with 
his  head  reared  above  all  fruit  or  foliage, 
was  a  bare-headed  lad  with  a  book  in  his 
hand,  which  he  seemed  intently  studying. 
1  supposed  that  he  was  a  boy  that  loved  his 
book  better  than  apples,  as  all  good  boys 
should, — one  who  in  very  childhood  had 
trodden  temptation  under  foot.  But,  indeed, 
it  was  only  a  boy  who  was  gathering  fruit 
from  the  topmost  boughs,  according  to  the 
figurative  meaning,  as  the  others  were  from 
those  lower  down.  Or  rathef,  as  he  was 
portrayed,  he  seemed  like  one  who  had 
culled  the  fairest  and  highest  growing  ap- 
ples, and  was  trying  to  learn  from  a  book 
where  he  should  find  a  fresh  and  loftier  tree 
upon  which  he  might  climb  to  a  richer  re- 
past and  a  nobler  distinction. 


AS    IT    WAS.  27 

This  picture  used  to  retain  my  eye  longer 
than  any  other  in  the  book.  It  was  proba- 
bly more  agreeable  on  account  of  the  other 
part  of  the  frontispiece  below  it.  This  was 
the  representation  of  a  school  at  their  stud- 
ies, with  the  master  at  his  desk.  He  was 
pictured  as  an  elderly  man,  with  an  im- 
mense wig  enveloping  his  head  and  bagging 
about  his  n^ck,  and  with  a  face  that  had  a 
sort  of  half-way  look,  or  rather  perhaps  a 
compound  look,  made  up  of  an  expression 
of  perplexity  at  a  sentence  in  parsing,  or  a 
sum  in  arithmetic,  and  a  frown  at  the  play- 
ful urchins  in  the  distant  seats.  There  could 
not  have  been  a  more  capital  device  by 
which  the  pleasures  of  a  free  range  and 
delicious  eating,  both  so  dear  to  the  young, 
might  be  contrasted  with  stupefying  confine- 
ment and  longing  palates  in  the  presence  of 
crabbed  authority.  Indeed,  the  first  thing 
the  Only  Sure  Guide  said  to  its  pupil  was, 
"  Play  truant  and  be  happy;"  and  most  of 
the  subsequent  contents  were  not  of  a  char- 
acter to  make  the  child  forget  this  prelimi- 
nary advice.     These  contents  I  was  going 


28  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

on  to  describe  in  detail;  but  on  second 
thought  I  forbear,  for  fear  that  the  descrip- 
tion might  be  as  tedious  to  my  readers  as 
the  study  of  them  was  to  me.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  there  was  talk  about  vowels  and  con- 
sonants, diphthongs  and  triphthongs,  mono- 
syllables and  polysyllables,  orthography  and 
punctuation,  and  even  about  geography,  all 
which  was  about  as  intelligible  to  us,  who 
were  obliged  to  commit  it  to  memory  year 
after  year,  as  the  fee-faw-fum  uttered  by  the 
giant  in  one  of  our  story-books. 

Perry's  spelling-book,  as  it  was  in  those 
days,  at  least,  is  now  out  of  use.  It  is  no 
where  to  be  found  except  in  fragments  in 
some  dark  corner  of  a  country  cupboard  or 
garret.  All  vestiges  of  it  will  soon  disappear 
for  ever.  What  will  the  rising  generations 
do,  into  what  wilds  of  barbarism  will  they 
wander,  into  what  pits  of  ignorance  fall, 
without  the  aid  of  the  Only  Sure  Guide  to 
the  English  tongue? 


!as  it  was.  29 

CHAPTER    IV. 

FIRST   "WINTER   AT    SCHOOL. 

How  I  longed  for  the  winter  school  to  begin, 
to  which  I  looked  forward  as  a  relief  from 
my  do-nothing  days,  and  as  a  renewal,  in 
part  at  least,  of  the  soft  and  glowing  pleas- 
ures of  the  past  summer  !  But  the  school- 
master, the  thought  of  him  was  a  fearful 
looking-for  of  frowns  and  ferulings.  Had 
I  not  heard  our  Ben  tell  of  the  direful  pun- 
ishments of  the  winter  school ;  of  the  ting- 
ling hand,  black  and  blue  with  twenty 
strokes,  and  not  to  be  closed  for  a  fortnight 
from  soreness?  Did  not  the  minister  and 
the  schoolmaster  of  the  preceding  winter 
visit  together  at  our  house,  one  evening,  and 
did  I  not  think  the  schoolmaster  far  the 
more  awful  man  of  the  two?  The  minister 
took  me  in  his  lap,  gave  me  a  kiss,  and  told 
me  about  his  own  little  Charley  at  home, 
whom  I  must  come  and  see;  and  he  set  me 

3* 


30  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

down  wiih  the  impression  that  he  was  not 
half  so  terrible  as  1  had  thought  him.  But 
the  schoolmaster  condescended  to  no  words 
with  me.  He  was  as  stiff  and  unstooping 
as  the  long  kitchen  fire-shovel,  and  as  sol- 
emn of  face  as  a  cloudy  fast-day.  A  trifling 
incident  happened  which  increased  my 
dread,  and  darkened  my  remembrance  of 
him  by  another  shade.  I  had  slily  crept  to 
the  table  on  which  stood  the  hats  of  our 
visitors,  and  in  childish  curiosity  had  first 
got  hold  of  a  glove,  then  a  letter,  which 
reposed  in  the  crown  of  the  magisterial 
head-covering.  The  owner's  eye  suddenly 
caught  me  at  the  mischief,  and  he  gave  me 
a  look  and  a  shake  of  his  upper  extremity, 
so  full  of  "  Let  it  alone  or  1  will  flog  you  " 
in  their  meaning,  that  I  was  struck  motion- 
less for  an  hour  with  fright,  and  had  hard 
work  to  dam  up,  with  all  the  strength  of  my 
quivering  hps,  a  choking  baby  cry.  Thence- 
forth, schoolmasters  to  my  timid  heart  were 
of  all  men  the  most  to  be  dreaded. 

The  winter  at  length  came,  and  the  first 
day  of  the   school   was   fixed   and   made 


AS    IT    WAS.  31 

known,  and  the  longed-for  morning  finally 
arrived.  With  hoping  yet  fearing  heart,  I 
was  led  by  Ben  to  school.  But  my  fears 
respecting  the  teacher  were  not  realized  that 
winter.  He  had  nothing  particularly  re- 
markable about  him  to  my  little  mind.  He 
had  his  hands  too  full  of  the  great  things  of 
the  great  scholars  to  take  much  notice  of 
me,  excepting  to  hear  me  read  my  Abs  four 
times  a  day.  This  exercise  he  went  through 
like  a  great  machine,  and  I  like  a  little  one; 
so  monotonous  was  the  humdrum  and  reg- 
ular the  recurrence  of  ab,  eb,  ib,  ob,  ub,  &c., 
from  day  to  day,  and  week  to  week.  To 
recur  to  the  metaphor  of  a  ladder  by  which 
progress  in  learning  is  so  often  illustrated,  I 
was  all  summer  on  the  lowest  round,  as  it 
were,  lifting  first  one  foot  and  then  the  other, 
still  putting  it  down  in  the  same  place,  with- 
out going  any  higher;  and  all  winter,  while 
at  school,  I  was  as  wearily  tap-tapping  it 
on  the  second  step,  with  the  additional 
drawback  of  not  having  Mary  Smith's  sweet 
manners  to  win  me  up  to  the  stand,  help 
me  cheerfully  through  the  task,  and  set  me 


32  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

down  again,  pleased  with  her  if  with  noth- 
ing else. 

There  was  one  circumstance,  however, 
in  the  daily  routine,  which  was  a  matter  of 
some  little  excitement  and  pleasure.  I  was 
put  into  a  class.  Truly  ray  littleness,  feel- 
ingly, if  not  actually  and  visibly,  enlarged 
itself,  when  I  was  called  out  with  Sam 
Allen,  Henry  Green,  and  Susan  Clark,  to 
take  our  stand  on  the  floor  as  the  sixth  class. 
I  marched  up  with  the  tread  of  a  soldier; 
and,  thinks  I,  "  Who  has  a  better  right  to 
be  at  the  head  than  myself]"  so  the  head  I 
took,  as  stiff  and  as  straight  as  a  cob.  My 
voice,  too,  if  it  lost  none  of  its  treble,  was 
pitched  a  key  louder,  as  a — b  ab  rang 
through  the  realm.  And  when  we  had 
finished,  I  looked  up  among  the  large  schol- 
ars, as  I  strutted  to  my  seat,  with  the 
thought,  "  I  am  almost  as  big  as  you  now," 
puffing  out  my  tiny  soul.  Now,  moreover, 
I  held  the  book  in  my  own  hand,  and  kept 
the  place  with  my  own  finger,  instead  of 
standing  like  a  very  httle  boy,  with  my 
hands  at  my  side,  following  with  my  eye 
the  point  of  the  mistress'  scissors; 


AS    IT    WAS.  33 

There  was  one  terror  at  this  winter  school 
which  I  must  not  omit  in  this  chronicle  of  my 
childhood.  It  arose  from  the  circumstance 
of  meeting  so  many  faces  which  I  had  nev- 
er seen  before,  or  at  least  had  never  seen 
crowded  together  in  one  body.  All  the 
great  boys  and  girls,  who  had  been  kept  at 
home  during  the  summer,  now  left  axes  and 
shovels,  needles  and  spinning-wheels,  and 
poured  into  the  winter  school.  There  they 
sat  side  by  side,  head  after  head,  row  above 
row.  For  this  I  did  not  care ;  but  every 
time  the  master  spoke  to  me  for  any  little 
misdemeanor,  it  seemed  as  if  all  turned 
their  eyes  on  my  timid  self,  and  I  felt  petri- 
fied by  the  gaze.  But  this  simultaneous 
and  concentrated  eye-shot  was  the  most 
distressing  when  I  happened  late,  and  was 
obliged  to  go  in  after  the  school  were  all 
seated  in  front  of  my  advance.  Those  forty 
— I  should  say  eighty  eyes  (for  most  of 
them  had  two  apiece,)  glancing  up  from 
their  books  as  I  opened  the  door,  were  as 
much  of  a  terror  to  me  as  so  many  deadly 
gim-muzzles  would  be  to  a  raw  military 


34  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

recruit.  I  tottered  into  the  room  and  toward 
my  seat  with  a  palsying  dismay,  as  if  every 
one  was  aiming  an  eye  for  my  destruction. 

The  severest  duty  I  was  ever  called  to 
perform  was  sitting  on  that  little  front  seat, 
at  my  first  winter  school.  My  lesson  in  the 
Abs  conveyed  no  ideas,  excited  no  interest, 
and,  of  course,  occupied  but  very  little  of 
my  time.  There  was  nothing  before  me  on 
which  to  lean  my  head,  or  lay  my  arms, 
but  my  own  knees.  I  could  not  lie  down 
to  drowse  as  in  summer,  for  want  of  room 
on  the  crowded  seat.  How  my  limbs  ached 
for  the  freedom  and  activity  of  play  !  It 
sometimes  seemed  as  if  a  drubbing  from  the 
master,  or  a  kick  across  the  school-house, 
would  have  been  a  pleasant  relief. 

But  these  bonds  upon  my  limbs  were  not 
all.  I  had  trials  by  fire  in  addition.  Every 
cold  forenoon,  the  old  fire-place,  wide  and 
deep,  was  kept  a  roaring  furnace  of  flame, 
for  the  benefit  of  blue  noses,  chattering  jaws, 
and  aching  toes,  in  the  more  distant  regions. 
The  end  of  my  seat,  just  opposite  the  chim- 
ney, was  oozy  with  melted  pitch,  and  some- 


AS    IT    WAS.  35 

times  almost  smoked  with  combustion. 
Judge,  then,  of  what  living  flesh  had  to 
bear.  It  was  a  toil  to  exist.  I  truly  ate 
the  bread  of  instruction,  or  rather  nibbled 
at  tbe  crust  of  it,  in  the  sweat  of  my  face. 

But  the  pleasures  and  the  pains  of  this 
season  at  school  did  not  continue  long.  Af- 
ter a  few  weeks,  the  storms  and  drifts  of 
midwinter  kept  me  mostly  at  home.  Henry 
Allen  was  in  the  same  predicament.  As 
for  Susan  Clark,  she  did  not  go  at  all  after 
the  first  three  or  four  days.  In  consequence 
of  the  sudden  change  from  roasting  within 
doors  to  freezing  without,  she  took  a  violent 
cold,  and  was  sick  all  winter. 


36  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 


CHAPTER    V. 

SECOND   SUMMER — MARY   SMITH   AGAIN. 

The  next  summer,  Mary  Smith  was  the 
mistress  again.  She  gave  such  admirable 
satisfaction,  that  there  was  but  one  unani- 
mous wish  that  she  should  be  re-engaged. 
Unanimous,  I  said,  but  it  was  not  quite  so; 
for  Capt.  Clark,  who  lived  close  by  the 
school-house,  preferred  somebody  else,  no 
matter  whom,  fit  or  not  fit,  who  should 
board  with  him,  as  the  teachers  usually  did. 
But  Mary  would  board  with  her  aunt  Car- 
ter, as  before.  Then  Mr.  Patch's  family 
grumbled  not  a  little,  and  tried  to  find  fault; 
for  they  wanted  their  Polly  should  keep  the 
school  and  board  at  home,  and  help  her 
mother  night  and  morning,  and  save  the 
pay  for  the  board  to  boot.  Otherwise  Polly 
must  go  into  a  distant  district,  to  less  advan- 
tage to  the  family  purse.     Mrs.  Patch  was 


AS    IT    WAS.  37 

heard  to  guess  that  "  Polly  could  keep  as 
good  a  school  as  any  body  else.  Her  edica- 
tion  had  cost  enough  any  how.  She  had 
been  to  our  school  summer  after  summer, 
and  winter  after  winter,  ever  since  she  was 
a  little  gal,  and  had  then  been  to  the  'cade- 
my  three  months  besides.  She  had  more- 
over taught  three  summers  already,  and  was 
twenty-one ;  whereas  Mary  Smith  had 
taught  but  two,  and  was  only  nineteen." 
But  the  committee  had  not  such  confidence 
in  the  experienced  Polly's  qualifications. 
All  who  had  been  to  school  with  her  knew 
that  her  head  was  dough,  if  ever  head  was. 
And  all  who  had  observed  her  school-keep- 
ing career  (she  never  kept  but  once  in  the 
same  place)  pretty  soon  came  to  the  same 
conclusion,  notwithstanding  her  loaf  of 
brains  had  been  three  months  in  that  intel- 
lectual oven  called  by  her  mother  the  'cad- 
emy. 

So  Mary  Smith  kept  the  school,  and  I 
had.  another  delightful  summer  under  her 
care  and  instruction.  I  was  four  years  and 
a  half  old  now,  and  had  grown  an  inch.     1 


88  THB    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

was  no  tiny,  whinipg,  half-scared  baby,  as 
in  the  first  summer.  No,  indeed;  I  had 
been  to  the  winter  school,  had  read  in  a 
class,  and  had  stood  up  at  the  fire  with  the 
great  boys,  had  seen  a  snow-ball  fight,  and 
had  been  accidentally  hit  once  by  the  icy 
missile  of  big-fisted  Joe  Swagger. 

I  looked  down  upon  two  or  three  fresh, 
slobbering  abecedarians  with  a  pride  of 
superiority,  greater  perhaps  than  I  ever  felt 
again.  We  read  not  in  ab,  eb,  &c.,  but  in 
words  that  meant  something;  and,  before 
the  close  of  the  summer,  in  what  were  called 
the  "Reading  Lessons,"  that  is,  little  words 
arranged  in  little  sentences. 

Mary  was  the  same  sweet  angel  this  sea- 
son as  the  last.  I  did  not,  of  course,  need 
her  soothing  and  smiling  assiduity  as  before; 
but  still  she  was  a  mother  to  me  in  tender- 
ness. She  was  forced  to  caution  us  young- 
lings pretty  often ;  yet  it  was  done  with 
such  sweetness,  that  a  caution  from  her  was 
as  efiectual  as  would  be  a  frown,  and  indeed 
a  blow,  from  many  others.  At  least,  so  it 
was  with  me.    She  used  to  resort  to  vari- 


AS    IT    WAS.  39 

ous  severities  with  the  refractory  and  idle, 
and  in  one  instance  she  used  the  ferule;  but 
we  all  knew,  and  the  culprit  knew,  that  it 
was  well  deserved.  ^ 

At  the  close  of  the  school,  there  was  j^"^ 
deeper  sadness  in  our  hearts  than  on  the 
last  summer's  closing  day.  She  had  told 
us  that  she  should  never  be  our  teacher 
again, — should  probably  never  meet  many 
of  us  again  in  this  world.  She  gave  us 
much  parting  advice  about  loving  and  obey- 
ing God,  and  loving  and  doing  good  to  every 
body.  She  shed  tears  as  she  talked  to  us, 
and  that  made  our  own  flow  still  more. 
When  we  were  dismissed,  the  customary 
and  giddy  laugh  was  not  heard.  Many 
were  sobbing  with  grief,  and  even  the  least 
sensitive  were  softened  and  subdued  to  an 
unusual  quietness. 

The  last  time  I  ever  saw  Mary  was  Sun- 
day evening,  on  my  way  home  from  meet- 
ing. As  we  passed  Mr.  Carter's,-  she  came 
out  to  the  chaise  where  I  sat  between  my 
parents,  to  bid  us  good-bye.  Oh,  that  last 
kiss,  that  last  smile,  and  those  last  tones  ! 


40  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

Never  shall  I  forget  them,  so  long  as  I  have 
power  to  remember,  or  capacity  to  love. 
The  next  morning  she  left  for  her  native 
town ;  and,  before  another  summer,  she  was 
married.  As  Mr.  Carter  soon  moved  from 
our  neighborhood,  the  dear  instructress  nev- 
er visited  it  again. 


AS    IT    WAS.  41 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THIRD    SUMMER — MEHITABEL    HOLT   AND    OTHER 
INSTRUCTRESSES. 

This  summer,  a  person  named  Mehitabel 
Holt  was  our  teacher.  It  was  with  eager 
delight  that  I  set  out  for  school  on  the  first 
morning.  The  dull  months  that  intervened 
between  the  winter  school  and  the  summer 
had  seemed  longer  than  ever.  I  longed  for 
the  companionship  and  the  sports  of  school. 
I  had  heard  nothing  about  the  mistress,  ex- 
cepting that  she  was  an  experienced  and 
approved  one.  On  my  way,  the  image  of 
something  like  Mary  Smith  arose  to  my 
imagination;  a  young  lady  with  pleasant 
face  and  voice,  and  a  winning  gentleness  of 
manner.  This  was  natural ;  for  Mary  was 
the  only  mistress  I  had  ever  been  to,  and  in 
fact  the  only  one  I  had  ever  seen,  who  made 
any  impression  on  my  mind  in  her  school- 

4* 


42  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

keeping  capacity.  What,  then,  was  my 
surprise  when  my  eyes  first  fell  on  Mehitabel 
Holt !  I  shall  not  describe  how  nature  had 
made  her,  or  time  had  altered  her.  Enga- 
ging manners  and  loveliness  of  character  do 
not  depend  on  the  freshness  of  youth,  fine- 
ness of  complexion,  or  symmetry  of  form. 
She  was  not  lovely;  her  first  appearance 
indicated  this ;  for  the  disposition  will  gen- 
erally speak  through  the  face.  Subsequent 
experience  proved  Mehitabel  to  difiier  from 
the  dear  Mary  as  much  as  all  that  is  sour 
does  from  the  quintessence  of  sweetness. 
She  had  been  well-looking,  indeed  rather 
beautiful  once,  I  have  heard  ;  but,  if  so,  the 
acidity  of  her  temper  had  diffused  itself 
through,  and  lamentably  corroded  this 
valued  gift  of  nature. 

She  kept  order  ;  for  her  punishments  were 
horrible,  especially  to  us  little  ones.  She 
dungeoned  us  in  that  windowless  closet  just 
for  a  whisper.  She  tied  us  to  her  chair  post 
for  an  hour,  because  sportive  nature  tempt- 
ed our  fingers  and  toes  into  something  like 
play.      If  we  were  restless  on  our  seats, 


AS    IT    WAS.  43 

wearied  of  our  posture,  fretted  by  the  heat, 
or  sick  of  the  unintelHgible  lesson,  a  twist 
of  the  ear,  or  a  snap  on  the  head  from  her 
thimbled  finger,  reminded  us  that  sitting 
perfectly  still  was  the  most  important  virtue 
of  a  little  boy  in  school.  Our  forenoon  and 
afternoon  recess  was  allowed  to  be  five  min- 
utes only ;  and,  even  during  that  time,  our 
voices  must  not  rise  above  the  tone  of  quiet 
conversation.  That  delightful  exercise  of  ju- 
venile lungs,  hallooing,  was  a  capital  crime. 
Our  noonings,  in  which  we  used  formerly 
to  rejoice  in  the  utmost  freedom  of  legs  and 
lungs,  were  now  like  the  noonings  of  the 
Sabbath,  in  the  restraints  imposed  upon  us. 
As  Mehitabel  boarded  at  Captain  Clark's, 
any  ranging  in  the  fields,  or  raising  of  the 
voice,  was  easily  detected  by  her  watchful 
senses. 

As  the  prevalent  idea  in  those  days  re- 
specting a  good  school  was,  that  there  should 
be  no  more  sound  and  motion  than  was  ab- 
solutely necessary,  Mehitabel  was,  on  the 
whole,  popular  with  the  parents.  She  kept 
us  still,  and  forced  us  to  get  our  lessons; 


44  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

and  that  was  something  uncommon  in  a 
mistress.  So  she  was  employed  the  next 
summer  to  keep  our  childhood  in  bondage. 
Had  her  strict  rules  been  enforced  by  any 
thing  resembling  Mary  Smith's  sweet  and 
sympathetic  disposition  and  manners,  they 
would  have  been  endurable.  But,  as  it 
was,  our  schooling  those  two  summers  was 
a  pain  to  the  body,  a  weariness  to  the  mind, 
and  a  disgust  to  the  heart. 

I  shall  not  devote  a  separate  chapter  to 
all  my  summer  teachers.  What  more  I 
may  have  to  say  of  them  I  shall  put  into 
this.  They  were  none  of  them  like  Mehit- 
abel  in  severity,  nor  all  of  them  equal  to 
her  in  usefulness,  and  none  of  them  equal 
in  any  respect  to  Mary  Smith.  Some  were 
very  young,  scarcely  sixteen,  and  as  unfit 
to  manage  that  "  harp  of  thousand  strings," 
the  human  mind,  as  is  the  unskilled  and 
changeful  wind  to  manage  any  musical  in- 
strument by  which  science  and  taste  de- 
lights the  ear.  Some  kept  tolerable  order ; 
others  made  the  attempt,  but  did  not  suc- 
ceed ;  others  did  not  even  make  the  attempt. 


AS    IT    WAS.  45 

All  would  doubtless  have  done  better,  had 
they  been  properly  educated  and  disciplined 
themselves.  . 

After  1  was  ten  years  old,  I  ceased  to  at- 
tend the  summer  school  except  in  foul 
weather,  as  in  fair  I  was  wanted  at  home 
on  the  farm.  These  scattering  days,  1  and 
others  of  nearly  the  same  age  were  sent  to 
school  by  our  parents,  in  hopes  that  we 
should  get  at  least  a  snatch  of  knowledge. 
But  this  rainy  day  schooling  was  nothing 
but  vanity  to  us,  and  vexation  of  spirit  to 
the  mistress.  We  could  read  and  spell  bet- 
ter than  the  younger  and  regular  scholars, 
and  were  puffed  up  with  our  own  superior- 
ity. We  showed  our  contempt  for  the  mis- 
tress and  her  orders,  by  doing  mischief 
ourselves,  and  leading  others  into  tempta- 
tion. 

If  she  had  the  boldness  to  apply  the  ferule, 
we  laughed  in  her  face,  unless  her  blows 
were  laid  on  with  something  like  masculine 
strength.  In  case  of  such  severity,  we 
waited  for  our  revenge  till  the  close  of  the 
school  for  the  day,  when  we  took  the  liber- 


46  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

ty  to  let  saucy  words  reach  her  ear,  espec- 
ially if  the  next  day  was  likely  to  be  fair, 
and  we  of  course  were  not  to  re-appear  in 
her  realm  till  foul  weather  again. 


AS    IT    WAS.  47 


CHAPTER  VII. 

LITTLE   BOOKS     PRESENTED    THE     LAST     DAY     OF 
THE    SCHOOL. 

There  was  one  circumstance  connected 
with  the  history  of  summer  schools  of  so 
great  importance  to  Uttle  folks  that  it  must 
not  be  omitted.  It  was  this.  The  mistress 
felt  obliged  to  give  little  books  to  all  her  pu- 
pils on  the  closing  day  of  her  school.  Oth- 
erwise she  would  be  thought  stingy,  and 
half  the  good  she  had  done  during  the  sum- 
mer would  be  canceled  by  the  omission  of 
the  expected  donations.  If  she  had  the 
least  generosity,  or  hoped  to  be  remembered 
with  any  respect  and  affection,  she  must 
devote  a  week's  wages,  and  perhaps  more, 
to  the  purchase  of  these  little  toy-books.  My 
first  present,  of  course,  was  from  Mary 
Smith.  It  was  not  a  little  book  the  first 
summer,  but  it  was  something  that  pleased 
me  more. 


48  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

The  last  day  of  the  school  had  arrived. 
All,  as  I  have  somewhere  said  before,  were 
sad  that  it  was  now  to  finish.  My  only 
solace  was  that  I  should  now  have  a  little 
book,  for  I  was  not  unmoved  in  the  general 
expectation  that  prevailed.  After  the  read- 
ing and  spelling,  and  all  the  usual  exercises 
of  the  school,  were  over,  Mary  took  from 
her  desk  a  pile  of  the  glittering  little  things 
we  were  looking  for.  What  beautiful  cov- 
ers,— red,  yellow,  blue,  green !  Oh  !  not 
the  first  buds  of  spring,  not  the  first  rose  of 
summer,  not  the  rising  moon,  nor  gorgeous 
rainbow,  seemed  so  charming  as  that  first 
pile  of  books  now  spread  out  on  her  lap,  as 
she  sat  in  her  chair  in  front  of  the  school. 
All  eyes  were  now  centered  on  the  outspread 
treasures.  Admiration  and  expectation 
were  depicted  on  every  face.  Pleasure 
glowed  in  every  heart;  for  the  worst,  as 
well  as  the  best,  calculated  with  certainly 
on  a  present.  What  a  beautifier  of  the 
countenance  agreeable  emotions  are  !  The 
most  ugly  visaged  were  beautiful  now  with 
the  radiance  of  keen  anticipation.      The 


AS    IT    WAS.  49 

scholars  were  called  out  one  by  one  to  re- 
ceive the  dazzling  gifts,  beginning  at  the 
oldest.  I,  being  an  abecedarian,  must  wait 
till  the  last;  but  as  I  knew  that  my  turn 
would  surely  come  in  due  order,  I  was  tol- 
erably patient.  But  what  was  my  disap- 
pointment, my  exceeding  bitterness  of  grief, 
when  the  last  book  on  Mary's  lap  was  given 
away,  and  my  name  not  yet  called  !  Every 
one  present  had  received,  except  myself  and 
two  others  of  the  ABC  rank.  I  felt  the 
tears  starting  to  my  eyes;  my  lips  were 
drawn  to  their  closest  pucker  to  hold  in  my 
emotions  from  audible  outcry.  I  heard  my 
fellow-sufferer  at  my  side  draw  long  and 
heavy  breaths,  the  usual  preliminaries  to 
the  bnrsting-out  of  grief.  This  feeling, 
however,  was  but  momentary ;  for  Mary 
immediately  said,  "  Charles  and  Henry  and 
Susan,  you  may  now  all  come  to  me  togeth- 
er :"  at  the  same  time  her  hand  was  put 
into  her  work-bag.  We  were  at  her  side  in 
an  instant,  and  in  that  time  she  held  in  her 
hand — what?  Not  three  little  picture- 
books,  but  what  was  to  us  a  surprising  nov- 


60  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

elty,  viz.,  three  little  birds  wrought  from 
sugar  by  the  confectioner's  art  I  had  nev- 
er seen  or  heard  or  dreamed  of  such  a  thing. 
What  a  revulsion  of  delighted  feeling  now 
swelled  my  little  bosom  !  "  If  I  should  give 
you  books,"  said  Mary,  "  you  could  not 
read  them  at  present ;  so  I  have  got  for  you 
what  you  will  like  better  perhaps,  and  there 
will  be  time  enough  for  you  to  have  books 
when  you  shall  be  able  to  read  them.  So, 
take  these  little  birds,  and  see  how  long  you 
can  keep  them."  We  were  perfectly  satis- 
fied, and  even  felt  ourselves  distinguished 
above  the  rest.  My  bird  was  more  to  me 
than  all  the  songsters  in  the  air,  although 
it  could  not  fly  or  sing,  or  open  its  mouth. 
I  kept  it  for  years,  until  by  accident  it  was 
crushed  to  pieces,  and  was  no  longer  a 
bird. 

But  Susan  Clark — I  was  provoked  at  her. 
Her  bird  was  nothing  to  her  but  a  piece  of 
pepperminted  sugar,  and  not  a  keepsake 
from  Mary  Smith.  She  had  not  left  the 
school-house  before  she  had  nibbled  off  its 
bill.     But  her  mother  was  always  tickling 


AS  rr  WAS.  51 

her  palate  with  sugar-plums,  raisins,  cook- 
ies, and  such  like,  which  the  restof  us  were 
not  accustomed  to;  and  she  had  no  idea 
that  the  sweet  little  sugar  bird  was  made, 
at  least  was  given,  for  the  sake  of  her  heart 
rather  than  her  palate. 

The  next  summer,  my  present  was  the 
"  Death  and  Burial  of  Cock  Robin."  This 
was  from  the  dearly  loved  Mary  too.  I 
could  then  do  something  more  than  look  at 
the  pictures.  I  could  read  the  tragic  his- 
tory which  was  told  in  verse  below  the  pic- 
tured representations  of  the  mournful  drama. 
How  I  used  to  gaze  and  wonder  at  what  I 
saw  in  that  little  book !  Could  it  be  that 
all  this  really  took  place ;  that  the  sparrow 
really  did  do  the  murderous  deed  with  his 
bow  and  his  arrow  ?  I  never  knew  before 
that  birds  had  such  things.  Then  there 
was  the  fish  with  his  dish,  the  rook  with 
his  book,  the  owl  with  his  shovel,  &c. 
Yet,  if  it  were  not  all  true,  why  should  it 
be  so  pictured  and  related  in  the  book  1  I 
had  the  impression  that  every  thing  that 
was  printed  in  a  book  was  surely  true ;  and 


62  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

as  no  one  thought  to  explain  to  me  the  na- 
ture of  a  fable,  I  went  on  puzzled  and  won- 
dering till  progressive  reason  at  length 
divined  its  meaning.  But  Cock  Robin, 
with  its  red  cover  and  gilded  edges — I  have  it 
now.  It  is  the  first  little  book  I  ever  re- 
ceived, and  it  was  from  Mary  Smith ;  and, 
as  it  is  the  only  tangible  memento  of  her 
goodness  that  I  possess,  I  shall  keep  it  as 
long  as  I  can. 

I  had  a  similar  present  each  successive 
season,  so  long  as  I  regularly  attended  the 
summer  school.  What  marvels  did  they 
contain !  How  curiosity  and  wonder  feast- 
ed on  their  contents  !  They  were  mostly 
about  giants,  fairies,  witches,  and  ghosts. 
By  this  kind  of  reading,  superstition  was 
trained  up  to  a  monstrous  growth ;  and, 
as  courage  could  not  thrive  in  its  cold  and 
gloomy  shadow,  it  was  a  sickly  shoot  for 
years.  Giants,  fairies,  witches,  and  ghosts 
were  ready  to  pounce  upon  me  from  every 
dark  corner  in  the  day-time  and  from  all 
around  in  the  night,  if  I  happened  to  be 
alone.    I  trembled  to  go  to  bed  alone  for 


AS    IT    WAS.  63 

years ;  and  I  was  often  almost  paralyzed 
with  horror  when  I  chanced  to  wake  in  the 
stilhiess  of  midnight,  and  my  ever-busy 
fancy  presented  the  grim  and  grinning  im- 
ages with  which  I  supposed  darkness  to  be 
peopled. 

I  wish  I  had  all  those  little  books  now. 
I  would  keep  them  as  long  as  I  live,  and  at 
death  would  bequeath  them  to  a  national 
Lyceum,  or  some  other  institution,  to  be 
kept  as  a  schoolmaster  keeps  a  pupil's  first 
writing,  as  a  specimen  or  a  mark  to  show 
what  improvement  has  been  made.  Indeed, 
if  improvement  has  been  made  in  any  thing, 
it  has  been  in  respect  to  children's  books. 
When  I  compare  the  world  of  fact  in  which 
the  "Little  Philosophers"  of  the  present 
day  live,  observe,  and  enjoy,  with  the  vis- 
ionary regions  where  I  wandered,  wonder- 
ed, believed,  and  trembled,  I  almost  wish 
to  be  a  child  again,  to  know  the  pleasure  of 
having  earliest  curiosity  fed  with  fact,  in- 
stead of  fiction  and  folly,  and  to  know  so 
much  about  the  great  world  with  so  young 
a  mind. 

6# 


54  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

GRAMMAR — YOUNG  LADY's   ACCIDENCE — MURRAY 
PARSING — pope's  ESSAY. 

On  my  fifth  summer,  at  the  age  of  seven 
and  a  half,  I  commenced  the  study  of  gram- 
mar. The  book  generally  used  in  our 
school  by  beginners,  was  called  the  Young 
Lady's  Accidence.  I  had  the  honor  of  a 
new  one.  The  Young  Lady's  Accidence ! 
How  often  have  I  gazed  on  that  last  word, 
and  wondered  what  it  meant !  Even  now, 
I  cannot  define  it,  though,  of  course,  I  have 
a  guess  at  its  meaning.  Let  me  turn  this 
very  minute  to  that  oracle  of  definitions,  the 
venerable  Webster :  "A  small  book  con- 
taining the  rudiments  of  grammar."  That 
is  it,  then.  But  what  an  intelligible  and 
appropriate  term  for  a  little  child's  book  ! 
The  mysterious  title,  however,  was  most 
appropriate  to  the  contents  of  the  volume ; 


AS   IT    WAS.  65 

for  they  were  all  mysterious,  and  that  for 
years,  to  my  poor  understanding. 

Well,  my  first  lesson  was  to  get  the  Parts 
of  Speech,  as  they  are  called.  What  a 
grand  achievement  to  engrave  on  my  mem- 
ory these  ten  separate  and  strange  words ! 
With  what  ardor  I  took  my  lesson  from  the 
mistress,  and  trudged  to  my  seat !  It  was 
a  new  study,  and  it  was  the  first  day  of  the 
school  moreover,  before  the  bashfulness  oc- 
casioned by  a  strange  teacher  had  subsided, 
and  before  the  spirit  of  play  had  been  ex- 
cited. So  there  was  nothing  at  the  moment 
to  divert  me  from  the  lofty  enterprise. 

Reader,  let  your  mind's  eye  peep  into 
that  old  school-house.  See  that  little  boy 
in  the  second  high  seat  from  the  front,  in 
home-made  and  home-dyed  pea-green* 
cotton  jacket  and  trowsers,  with  a  clean 
Monday  morning  collar  turned  out  from  his 
neck.  His  new  book  is  before  him  on  the 
bench,  kept  open  by  his  left  hand.  His 
right  supports  his  head  on  its  palm,  with 

*  This  was  the  name  given  by  the  housewives  to  the 
color. 


56  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

the  corresponding  elbow  pressed  on  the 
bench.  His  lips  move,  but  at  first  very 
slowly.  He  goes  over  the  whole  lesson  in 
a  low  whisper.  He  now  looks  off  his  book, 
and  pronounces  two  or  three  of  the  first, — 
article,  noun,  pronoun ;  then  just  glances  at 
the  page,  and  goes  on  with  two  or  three 
more.  He  at  length  repeats  several  words 
without  looking.  Finally,  he  goes  through 
the  long  catalogue,  with  his  eye  fastened 
on  vacancy.  At  length,  how  his  lips  flut- 
ter, and  you  hear  the  parts  of  speech  whiz- 
zing from  his  tongue  like  feathered  arrows  ! 
A  good  simile  that.  Parts  of  speech — they 
are  indeed  arrows  of  thought,  though  as  yet 
armed  with  no  point,  and  shot  at  no  mark. 
There,  the  rigmarole  is  accomplished. 
He  starts  up,  and  is  at  the  mistress'  side  in 
a  moment.  "  Will  you  hear  my  lesson, 
ma'am?"  As  she  takes  the  book,  he  looks 
directly  in  her  face,  and  repeats  the  afore- 
mentioned words  loudly  and  distinctly,  as 
if  there  were  no  fear  of  failure.  He  has  got 
as  far  as  the  adverb ;  but  now  he  hesitates, 
his  eye  drops,  his  lips  are  open  ready  for 


AS    IT    WAS.  57 

Utterance,  but  the  word  does  not  come.  He 
shuts  them,  he  presses  them  hard  together, 
he  puts  his  finger  to  them,  and  there  is  a 
painful  hiatus  in  his  recitation,  a  disconnec- 
tion, an  anti  to  the  very  word  he  is  after. 
"  Conjunction,"  says  the  mistress.  The 
Httle  hand  leaves  the  hps,  at  the  same  time 
that  an  involuntary  "  Oh !  "  bursts  out  from 
them.  He  lifts  his  head  and  his  eye,  and 
repeats  with  spirit  the  delinquent  word,  and 
goes  on  without  hesitation  to  the  end  of  the 
lesson.  "Yery  well,"  says  the  teacher,  or 
the  hearer  of  the  school ;  for  she  rather  list- 
ened to  than  instructed  her  pupils.  "Get  so 
far  for  the  next  lesson."  The  child  bows, 
whirls  on  his  heel,  and  trips  to  his  seat, 
mightily  satisfied  excepting  with  that  one 
failure  of  memory,  when  that  thundering 
word,  conjunction^  refused  to  come  at  his 
will.  But  that  word  he  never  forgot  again. 
The  failure  fastened  it  in  his  memory  for 
ever.  This  pea-green  boy  was  myself,  the 
present  historian  of  the  scene. 

My  next  lesson  lagged  a  little ;  my  third 
seemed  quite  dull ;  my  fourth  I  was  two 


68  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

days  in  getting.  At  the  end  of  the  week, 
I  thought  that  I  could  get  along  through  the 
world  very  well  without  grammar,  as  my 
grandfather  had  done  before  me.  But  my 
mistress  did  not  agree  with  me,  and  I  was 
forced  to  go  on.  1  contrived,  however,  to 
make  easy  work  of  the  study.  I  got  fre- 
quent, but  very  short  lessons,  only  a  single 
sentence  at  a  time.  This  was  easily  com- 
mitted to  memory,  and  would  stay  on  till  I 
could  run  up  and  toss  it  off  in  recitation, 
after  which  it  did  not  trouble  me  more. 
The  recollection  of  it  puts  me  in  mind  of  a 
little  boy  lugging  in  wood,  a  stick  at  a  time. 
My  teacher  was  so  ignorant  of  the  philoso- 
phy of  mind,  that  she  did  not  know  that 
this  was  not  as  good  a  way  as  any ;  and, 
indeed,  she  praised  me  for  my  smartness. 
The  consequence  was,  that,  after  I  had 
been  through  the  book,  I  could  scarcely 
have  repeated  ten  lines  of  it,  excepting  the 
very  first  and  the  very  last  lessons.  Had 
it  been  ideas  instead  of  words  that  had  thus 
escaped  from  my  mind,  the  case  would  have 
been  different.    As  it  was,  the  only  matter  of 


AS    IT    WAS.  59 

regret  was,  that  1  had  been  forming  a  bad 
habit,  and  had  imbibed  an  erroneous  notion, 
to  wit,  that  lessons  were  to  be  learned  sim- 
ply to  be  recited. 

The  next  winter  this  Accidence  was  com- 
mitted, not  to  memory,  but  to  oblivion  ;  for, 
on  presenting  it  to  the  master  the  first 
day  of  the  school,  he  told  me  it  was  old- 
fashioned  and  out  of  date,  and  1  must  have 
Murray's  Abridgment.  So  Murray  wa& 
purchased,  and  I  commenced  the  study  of 
grammar  again,  excited  by  the  novelty  of  a 
new  and  clean  and  larger  book.  But  this 
soon  became  even  more  dull  and  dry  than 
its  predecessor ;  for  it  was  more  than  twice 
the  size,  and  the  end  of  it  was  at  the  most 
discouraging  distance  of  months,  if  not  of 
years.  I  got  only  half  way  through  the 
verb  this  winter.  The  next  summer  I  be- 
gan the  book  again,  and  arrived  at  the  end 
of  the  account  of  the  parts  of  speech.  The 
winter  after,  I  went  over  the  same  ground 
again,  and  got  through  the  rules  of  syntax, 
and  felt  that  I  had  accomplished  a  great 
work.     The  next  summer  I  reviewed  the 


60  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

whole  grammar ;  for  the  mistress  thought 
it  necessary  to  have  "  its  most  practical  and 
important  parts  firmly  fixed  in  the  memory, 
before  attempting  the  higher  exercises  of  the 
study."  On  the  third  winter,  I  began  to  ap- 
ply my  supposed  knowledge  in  the  process 
of  passing,  as  it  was  termed  by  the  master. 
The  very  pronunciation  of  this  word  shows 
how  little  the  teacher  exercised  the  power 
.of  independent  thought.  He  had  been  ac- 
customed to  hear  parse  called  pass ;  and, 
though  the  least  reflection  would  have 
told  him  it  was  not  correct,  that  reflection 
came  not,  and  for  years  the  grammarians 
of  our  district  school  passed.  However,  it 
was  rightly  so  called.  It  was  passing,  as 
said  exercise  was  performed  ;  passing  over, 
by,  around,  away,  from  the  science  of  gram- 
mar, without  coming  near  it,  or  at  least 
without  entering  into  it  with  much  under- 
standing of  its  nature.  Mode,  tense,  case, 
government  and  agreement,  were  ever  fly- 
ing from  our  tongues,  to  be  sure  ;  but  their 
meaning  was  as  much  a  mystery  as  the 
hocus  pocus  of  a  juggler. 


AS    IT    WAS.  61 

At  first  we  parsed  in  simple  prose,  but 
soon  entered  on  poetry.  Poetry — a  tiling 
whicii  to  our  apprehiension  differed  from 
prose  in  tliis  only,  that  each  line  began  with 
a  capital  letter,  and  ended  usually  with  a 
word  sounding  like  another  word  at  the 
end  of  the  adjoining  line.  But,  unskilled 
as  we  all  generally  were  in  the  art  of  pars- 
ing, some  of  us  came  to  think  ourselves 
wonderfully  acute  and  dexterous  neverthe- 
less. When  we  perceived  the, master  him- 
self to  be  in  doubt  and  perplexity,  then  we 
felt  ourselves  on  a  level  with  him,  and 
ventured  to  oppose  our  guess  to  his.  And 
if  he  appeared  a  dunce  extraordinary,  as 
was  sometimes  the  case,  we  used  to  put 
ourselves  into  the  jwtentlal  mood  pretty 
often,  as  we  knew  that  our  teacher  could 
never  assume  the  imperative  on  this  sub- 
ject. 

The  fact  is,  neither  we  nor  the  teacher 
entered  into  the  writer's  meaning.  The 
general  plan  of  the  work  was  not  surveyed, 
nor  the  particular  sense  of  separate  passa- 
ges examined.     We  could  not  do  it,  per- 

6 


62  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

haps,  from  the  want  of  maturity  of  mind  ; 
the  teacher  did  not,  because  he  had  never 
been  accustomed  to  any  thing  of  the  kind 
ill  his  own  education  ;  and  it  never  occurred 
to  him  that  he  could  deviate  from  the  track, 
or  improve  upon  the  methods  of  those  who 
tauglit  him.  Pope's  Essay  on  Man  was  the 
parsing  manual  used  by  the  most  advanced. 
No  wonder,  then,  that  pupil  and  pedagogue 
so  often  got  bewildered  and  lost  in  a  world 
of  thought  like  this ;  for,  however  well 
ordered  a  creation  it  might  be,  it  was 
scarcely  better  than  a  chaos  to  them. 

In  closing,  I  ought  to  remark,  that  all  our 
teachers  were  not  thus  ignorant  of  gram- 
mar, although  they  did  not  perhaps  take 
the  best  way  to  teach  it.  In  speaking  thus 
of  this  department  of  study,  and  also  of 
others,  I  have  reference  to  the  more  general 
character  of  schoolmasters  and  schools. 


AS    IT    WAS.  63 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  PARTICULAR  MASTER — VARIOUS  METHODS  OF 
PUNIHSMENT. 

I  have  given  some  account  of  my  first 
winter  at  school.  Of  my  second,  third,  and 
fourth,  I  have  nothing  of  importance  to  say. 
The  routine  was  the  same  in  each.  The 
teachers  were  remarkable  for  nothing  in 
particular:  if  they  were,  1  have  too  indis- 
tinct a  remembrance  of  their  characters  to 
portray  them  now  ;  so  I  will  pass  them  by, 
and  describe  the  teacher  of  my  fifth. 

He  was  called  the  particular  master. 
The  scholars,  in  speaking  of  him,  would 
say,  "  He  is  so  particular."  The  first  morn- 
ing of  the  school,  he  read  us  a  long  list  of 
regulations  to  be  observed  in  school,  and 
out.  "  There  are  more  rules  than  you  could, 
shake  a  stick  at  before  your  arm  would 
ache,"  said  some  one.     "  And  if  the  master 


64  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

should  shake  a  stick  at  every  one  who 
should  disobey  them,  he  would  not  find 
time  to  do  much  else,"  said  another.  In- 
deed, it  proved  to  be  so.  Half  the  time  was 
spent  in  callingup  scholars  for  little  misde- 
meanors, trying  to  make  them  confess  their 
faults,  and  promise  stricter  obedience,  or  in 
devising  punishments  and  inflicting  them. 
Almost  every  method  was  tried  that  was 
ever  suggested  to  the  brain  of  pedagogue. 
Some  were  feruled  on  the  hand  ;  some  were 
whipped  with  a  rod  on  the  back ;  some 
were  compelled  to  hold  out,  at  arm's  length, 
the  largest  book  which  could  be  found,  or  a 
great  leaden  inkstand,  till  muscle  and  nerve, 
bone  and  marrovv,were  tortured  with  the  con- 
tinued exertion.  If  the  arm  bent  or  inclined 
from  the  horizontal  level,  it  was  forced  back 
again  by  a  knock  of  the  ruler  on  the  elbow. 
I  well  recollect  that  one  poor  fellow  forgot 
his  suffering  by  fainting  quite  away.  This 
lingering  punishment  was  more  befitting 
the  vengeance  of  a  savage,  than  the  correc- 
tive efforts  of  a  teacher  of  the  young  in  civ- 
ilized life. 


AS    IT    WAS.  65 

He  had  recourse  to  another  method,  al- 
most, perhaps  quite,  as  barbarous.  It  was 
standing  in  a  stooping  posture,  with  tlie 
finger  on  the  head  of  a  nail  in  the  floor.  It 
was  a  position  not  particularly  favorable  to 
health  of  body  or  soundness  of  mind ;  the 
head  being  brought  about  as  low  as  the 
knees,  the  blood  rushing  to  it,  and  pressing 
unnaturally  on  the  veins,  often  caused  a  dull 
pain,  and  a  staggering  dizziness.  That 
man's  judgment  or  mercy  must  have  been 
topsy-turvy  also,  who  first  set  the  example 
of  such  an  infliction  on  those  whose  progress 
in  knowledge  depended  somewhat  on  their 
being  kept  right  end  upward. 

The  above  punishments  were  sometimes 
rendered  doubly  painful  by  their  taking 
place  directly  in  front  of  the  enormous  fire, 
so  that  the  pitiable  culprit  was  roasted  as 
well  as  racked.  Another  mode  of  punish- 
ment—  an  anti-whispering  process  —  was 
setting  the  jaws  at  a  painful  distance  apart, 
by  inserting  a  chip  perpendicularly  between 
the  teeth.  Then  we  occasionally  had  our' 
hair  pulled,  our  noses  tweaked,   our  ears 


66  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

pinched  and  boxed,  or  snapped,  perhaps, 
with  India-rubber ;  this  last  the  perfection 
of  ear-tingling  operations.  There  were  mi- 
nor penalties,  moreover,  for  minor  faults. 
The  uneasy  urchins  were  clapped  into  the 
closet,  thrust  under  the  desk,  or  perched  on 
its  top.  Boys  were  made  to  sit  in  the  girls' 
seats,  amusing  the  school  with  their  grin- 
ning awkwardness  ;  and  girls  were  obliged 
to  sit  on  the  masculine  side  of  the  aisle, 
with  crimsoned  necks,  and  faces  buried  in 
their  aprons. 

But  I  have  dwelt  long  enough  on  the  va- 
rious penalties  of  the  numerous  violations  of 
Master  Particular's  many  orders.  After  all, 
he  did  not  keep  an  orderly  school.  The 
cause  of  the  mischief  was,  he  was  variable. 
He  wanted  that  persevering  firmness  and 
uniformity  which  alone  can  insure  success. 
He  had  so  many  regulations,  that  he  could 
not  stop  at  all  times  to  notice  the  transgres- 
sions of  them.  The  scholars,  not  knowing 
with  certainty  what  to  expect,  dared  to  run 
the  risk  of  disobedience.  The  consequence 
of  this  procedure  on  the  part  of  the  ruler 


AS    IT    WAS.  67 

and  the  ruled  was,  that  the  school  became 
uncommonly  riotous  before  the  close  of  the 
season.  The  larger  scholars  soon  broke 
over  all  restraint:  but  the  little  ones  were 
narrowly  watched  and  restricted  somewhat 
longer.  But  these  gradually  grew  unmind- 
ful of  the  unstable  authority,  and  finally 
contemned  it  with  almost  insolent  effront- 
ery, unless  the  master's  temper-kindled  eye 
was  fixed  directly  and  menacingly  upon 
them.  Thus  the  many  regulations  were 
like  so  many  cobwebs,  through  which  the 
great  flies  would  break  at  once,  and  so  tear 
and  disorder  the  net  that  it  would  not  hold 
even  the  little  ones,  or  at  all  answer  the 
purpose  for  which  it  was  spun. 

I  would  not  have  it  understood  that  this 
master  was  singular  in  his  punishments; 
for  such  methods  of  correcting  offenders 
have  been  in  use  time  out  of  mind.  He 
was  distinguished  only  for  resorting  to  them 
more  frequently  than  any  other  instructor 
within  my  own  observation.  The  truth  is, 
that  it  seemed  to  be  the  prevailing  opinion 
both  among  teachers  and  parents,  that  boys 


68  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

and  girls  icould  play  and  be  mischievous  at 
any  rate,  and  that  consequently  masters 
miist  punish  in  some  way  or  other.  It  was 
a  matter  of  course ;  nothing  better  was  ex- 
pected. 


AS    IT    WAS.  69 


CHAPTER    X. 

HOW  THEY  USED    TO    READ  IN   THE    OLD   SCHOOL- 
HOUSE    IN    DISTRICT   NO.    V. 

Tn  this  description  of  the  District  School, 
as  it  loas^  that  frequent  and  important  exer- 
cise, Reading,  must  not  be  omitted, — Read- 
ing as  it  was.  Advance,  then,  ye  readers 
of  the  Old  School-house,  and  let  us  witness 
your  performances. 

We  will  suppose  it  is  the  first  day  of  the 
school.  "  Come  and  read,"  says  the  mis- 
tress to  a  little  flaxen  headed  creature  of 
doubtful  gender;  for  the  child  is  in  petti- 
coats, and  sits  on  the  female  side,  as  close 
as  possible  to  a  guardian  sister.  But  then 
those  coarser  features,  tanned  complexion, 
and  close-clipped  hair,  with  other  minutiae 
of  aspect,  are  somewhat  contradictory  to 
the  feminine  dress.  "  Come  and  read."  It 
is  the  first  time  that  this  he  or  she  was  ever 


70  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

inside  of  a  school-honse,  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  shool-ma'am,  according  to  recol- 
lection, and  the  order  is  heard  with  shrinking 
timidity.  But  the  sister  whispers  an  en- 
couraging word,  and  helps  "tot"  down 
from  the  seat,  who  creeps  out  into  the  aisle, 
and  hesitates  along  down  to  the  teacher, 
biting  his  fingers,  or  scratching  his  head, 
perhaps  both,  to  relieve  the  embarrassment 
of  the  novel  situation,  "  What  is  your 
name,  dearl  "  Tholomon  Icherthon,''^  lisps 
the  now-discovered  he,  in  a  phlegm-choked 
voice,  scarce  above  a  whisper.  "  Put  your 
hands  down  by  your  side,  Solomon,  and 
make  a  bow."  He  obeys,  if  a  short  and 
hasty  jerk  of  the  head  is  a  bow.  The  al- 
phabetical page  of  the  spelling-book  is  pre- 
sented, and  he  is  asked,  "What's  that?" 
But  he  cannot  tell.  He  is  but  two  years 
and  a  half  old,  and  has  been  sent  to  school 
to  relieve  his  mother  from  trouble,  rather 
than  to  learn.  No  one  at  home  has  yet 
shown  or  named  a  letter  to  him.  He  has 
never  had  even  thiat  celebrated  character, 
round  O,  pointed  out  to  his  notice.     It  was 


AS    IT    WAS.  71 

an  older  beginner,  most  probably,  who, 
being  asked  a  similar  question  about  the 
first  letter  of  the  alphabet,  replied,  "  I  know 
him  by  sight,  but  can't  tell  him  by  name." 
But  our  namesake  of  the  wise  man  does 
not  know  the  gentleman  even  by  sight,  nor 
any  of  his  twenty-five  companions. 

Solomon  Richardson  has  at  length  said 
A,  B,  C,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  He 
has  read.  "  That's  a  nice  boy ;  make  anoth- 
er bow,  and  go  to  your  seat."  He  gives 
another  jerk  of  the  head,  and  whirls  on  his 
heel,  and  trots  back  to  his  seat,  meeting  the 
congratulatory  smile  of  his  sister  with  a 
satisfied  grin,  which,  put  into  language 
would  be,  "  There,  I've  read,  ha'nt  I  7  " 

The  little  chit,  at  first  so  timid,  and  al- 
most inaudible  in  enunciation,  in  a  iew 
days  becomes  accustomed  to  the  place  and 
the  exercise;  and,  in  obedience  to  the 
"Speak  up  loud,  that's  a  good  boy,"  he 
soon  pipes  off  Aer^  B-er^  C-er^  &lc.,  with  a 
far-ringing  shrillness,  that  vies  even  with 
chanticleer  himself  Solomon  went  all  the 
pleasant  days   of   the   first  summer,    and 


72  THB    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

nearly  every  day  of  the  next,  before  he 
knew  all  the  letters  by  sight,  or  could  call 
them  by  name.  Strange  that  it  should  take 
so  long  to  become  acquainted  with  these 
twenty-six  characters,  when,  in  a  month's 
time,  the  same  child  becomes  familiar  with 
the  forms  and  the  names  of  hundreds  of  ob- 
jects in  nature  around,  or  in  use  about  his 
father's  house,  shop,  or  farm  !|  Not  so  very 
strange  eitlier,  if  we  only  reflect  a  moment. 
Take  a  child  into  a  party  of  twenty-six  per- 
sons, all  strangers,  and  lead  him  from  one 
to  the  other  as  fast  as  his  little  feet  can  pat- 
ter, telling  hitn  their  respective  names,  all 
in  less  than  ten  minutes  ;  do  this  four  times 
a  day  even,  and  you  would  not  be  sur- 
prised if  he  should  be  weeks  at  least,  if  not 
months,  in  learning  to  designate  them  all 
by  their  names.  Is  it  any  matter  of  sur- 
prise, then,  that  the  child  should  be  so  long 
in  becoming  acquainted  with  the  alphabet- 
ical party,  when  he  is  introduced  to  them 
precisely  in  the  manner  above  described? 
Then,  these  are  not  of  diiFerent  heights, 
complexions,  dresses,  motions,  and  tones  of 


AS    IT    WAS.  73 

voice,  as  a  living  company  have.  But 
there  they  stand  in  an  unalterable  line,  all 
in  the  same  complexions  and  dress  ;  all  just 
so  tall,  just  so  motionless  and  mute  and  un- 
interesting, and,  of  course,  the  most  unre- 
memberable  figures  in  the  world.  No 
wonder  that  some  should  go  to  school,  and 
"sit  on  a  bench,  and  say  A  B  C,"  as  a 
little  girl  said,  for  a  whole  year,  and  still 
find  themselves  strangers  to  some  of  the 
sable  company  even  then.  Our  little  read- 
er is  permitted  at  length  to  turn  a  leaf,  and 
he  finds  himself  in  the  region  of  the  Abs, — 
an  expanse  of  little  syllables,  making  me, 
who  am  given  to  comparisons,  think  of  an 
extensive  plain  whereon  there  is  no  tree  or 
shrub  or  plant,  or  any  thing  else  inviting  to 
the  eye,  and  nothing  but  little  stones, 
stones,  stones,  all  about  the  same  size. 
And  what  must  the  poor  little  learner  do 
here  7  Why,  he  must  hop  from  cobble  to 
cobble,  if  I  may  so  call  ab,  eb,  ib,  as  fast  as 
he  possibly  can,  naming  each  one,  after  the 
voice  of  the  teacher,  as  he  hurries  along. 
And  this  must  be  kept  up  until  he  cau  de- 


74  THE    DISTRlfcT    SCHOOL 

nominate  each   lifeless    and  uninteresting 
object  on  the  face  of  the  desert. 

After  more  or  less  months,  the  weary 
novice  ceases  to  be  an  Ab-ite.  He  is  next 
put  into  whole  words  of  one  syllable,  ar- 
ranged in  columns.  The  first  word  we  read 
in  Perry  that  conveyed  any  thing  like  an 
idea,  was  the  first  one  in  the  first  column, — 
the  word  ache:  ay,  we  did  not  easily  forget 
what  this  meant  when  once  informed  ;  the 
corresponding  idea,  or  rather  feeling,  was 
so  often  in  our  consciousness.  Ache, — a 
very  appropriate  term  with  which  to  begin 
a  course  of  education  so  abounding  in  pains 
of  body  and  of  mind. 

After  five  pages  of  this  perpendicular 
reading,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  we  entered  on 
the  horizontal,  that  is,  on  words  arranged 
in  sentences  and  paragraphs.  This  was 
reading  in  good  earnest,  as  grown-up  folks 
did,  and  something  with  which  tiny  child- 
hood would  be  very  naturally  puffed  up. 
"  Easy  Lessons"  was  the  title  of  about  a 
dozen  separate  chapters,  scattered  at  inter- 
vals among  the  numerous  spelling  columns, 


AS    IT    WAS.  75 

like  brambly  openings  here  and  there  amid 
the  tall  forest.  Easy  lessons,  because  they 
consisted  mostly  of  little  monosyllabic 
words,  easy  to  be  pronounced.  But  they 
were  not  easy  as  it  regards  being  under- 
stood. They  were  made  up  of  abstract 
moral  sentences,  presenting  but  a  very  faint 
meaning  to  the  child,  if  any  at  all.  Their 
particular  application  to  his  own  conduct 
he  would  not  perceive,  of  course,  without 
help;  and  this  it  scarcely  ever  entered  the 
head  or  the  heart  of  the  teacher  to  afford. 
In  the  course  of  summers,  how  many  I 
forget,  we  arrived  at  the  most  manly  and 
dignified  reading  the  illustrious  Perry  had 
prepared  for  us.  It  was  entitled  "Moral 
Tales  and  Fables."  In  these  latter,  beasts 
and  birds  talked  like  men;  and  strange  sort 
of  folks,  called  Jupiter,  Mercury,  and  Juno, 
were  pictured  as  sitting  up  in  the  clouds, 
and  talking  with  men  and  animals  on 
earth,  or  as  down  among  them  doing  very 
unearthly  things.  To  quote  language  in 
common  use,  we  kind  o'  believed  it  all  to  be 
true^  and  yet  we  kind  o'   dixMt.    As  for 


76  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

the  "moral"  at  the  end,  teachers  never 
dreamed  of  attracting  our  attention  to  it. 
Indeed,  we  had  no  other  idea  of  all  these 
Easy  Lessons,  Tales,  and  Fables,  than  that 
they  were  to  be  syllabled  from  the  tongue 
in  the  task  of  reading.  That  they  were  to 
sink  into  the  heart,  and  make  us  better  in 
life,  never  occurred  to  our  simple  under- 
standings. 

Among  all  the  rest  were  five  pieces  of 
poetry, — charming  stuff  to  read ;  the  words 
would  come  along  one  after  another  so  easi- 
ly, and  the  lines  would  jingle  so  pleasantly 
together  at  the  end,  tickling  the  ear  like 
two  beads  in  a  rattle.  "Oh!  give  us 
poetry  to  read,  of  all  things,"  we  thought. 

We  generally  passed  directly  from  the 
spelling-book  to  the  reading-book  of  the 
first  class,  although  we  were  ranked  the 
second  class  still.  Or  perhaps  we  took  a 
book  which  had  been  formerly  used  by  the 
first  class ;  for  a  new  reading  book  was 
generally  introduced  once  in  a  few  years  in 
compliance  with  the  earnest  recommenda- 
tion of  the  temporary  teacher.     While  the 


AS    IT    WAS. 


f7 


first  class  were  in  Scott's  Lessons,  we  of 
the  second  were  pursuing  their  tracks, 
not  altogether  understandingly,  through 
Adams'  Understanding  Reader.  When  a 
new  master  pursuaded  them  into  Murray, 
then  we  were  admitted  into  Scott. 

The  principal  requisites  in  reading,  in 
these  days,  were  to  read  fast,  mind  the 
"  stops  and  marks,"  and  speak  up  loud. 
As  for  suiting  the  tone  to  the  meaning,  no 
such  thing  was  dreamed  of,  in  our  school 
at  least.  As  much  emphasis  was  laid  on 
an  insignificant  of  or  and  as  on  the  most 
important  word  in  the  piece.  But  no  won- 
der we  did  not  know  how  to  vary  our 
tones,  for  we  did  not  always  know  the 
meaning  of  the  words,  or  enter  into  the 
general  spirit  of  the  composition.  This 
was  very  frequently,  indeed  almost  always, 
the  case  with  the  majority  even  of  the  first 
class.  Parliamentary  prose  and  Miltonic 
verse  were  just  about  as  good  as  Greek  for 
the  purpose  of  modulating  the  voice  ac- 
cording to  meaning.  It  scarcely  ever  en- 
tered the  heads  of  our  teachers  to  question 


78  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

US  about  the  ideas  hidden  in  the  great, 
long  words  and  spacious  sentences.  It  is 
possible  that  they  did  not  always  discover 
it  themselves.  "  Speak  up  there,  and  not 
read  like  a  mouse  in  a  cheese ;  and  mind 
3''our  stops," — such  were  the  principal  di- 
rections respecting  the  important  art  of  elo- 
cution. Important  it  was  most  certainly 
considered ;  for  each  class  must  read  twice 
in  the  forenoon,  and  the  same  in  the  after- 
noon, from  a  quarter  to  half  an  hour  each 
time,  according  to  the  size  of  the  class. 
Had  they  read  but  once  or  twice,  and  but 
little  at  a  time,  and  this  with  nice  and  very 
profitable  attention  to  tone  and  sense,  pa- 
rents would  have  thought  the  master  most 
miserably  deficient  in  duty,  and  their  chil- 
dren cheated  out  of  their  rights,  notwith- 
standing the  time  thus  saved  should  be 
most  assiduously  devoted  to  other  all-im- 
portant branches  of  education. 

It  ought  not  to  be  omitted,  that  the  Bible, 
particularly  the  New  Testament,  was  the 
reading  twice  a  day,  generally,  for  all  the 
classes  adequate  to  words  of  more  than  one 


AS    IT    WAS.  79 

syllable.  It  was  the  only  reading  of  sev- 
eral of  the  younger  classes  under  some 
teachers.  On  this  practice  I  shall  make 
but  a  single  remark.  As  far  as  my  own 
experience  and  observation  extended,  reve- 
rence for  the  sacred  volume  was  not  deep- 
ened by  this  constant  but  exceedingly  care- 
less use. 

But  what  a  long  and  perhaps  tedious 
chapter  on  this  subject  of  reading !  I  had 
no  idea  of  it  when  I  began.  Yet  I  have 
not  put  down  the  half  that  I  could.  These 
early  impressions,  when  once  started  from 
their  recesses,  how  they  will  teem  forth ! 


80  THE    DISTEICT    SCHOOL 


CHAPTER    XI. 

HOW    THEY   USED    TO    SPELL. 

There,  the  class  have  read ;  but  they  have 
something  else  to  do  before  they  take  their 
seats.  "  Shut  your  books,"  says  he  who 
has  been  hearing  them  read.  What  makes 
this  row  of  little  countenances  brighten  up 
so  suddenly,  especially  the  upper  end  of  it7 
What  wooden  faces  and  leaden  eyes,  two 
minutes  ago  !  The  reading  was  nothing 
to  them, — those  select  sentences  and  max- 
ims in  Perry's  Spelling-book  which  are 
tucked  in  between  the  fables.  It  is  all  as 
dull  as  a  dirge  to  those  life-loving  boys  and 
girls.  They  almost  drowsed  while  they 
stood  up  in  their  places.  But  they  are  fully 
awake  now.  They  are  going  to  spell. 
But  this  in  itself  is  the  driest  exercise  to 
prepare  for,  and  the  driest  to  perform,  of 
the  whole  round.  The  child  cares  no  more 
in  his  heart  about  the  arrangement  of  vowels 


AS    IT    WAS.  81 

and  consonants  in  the  orthography  of  words, 
than  he  does  how  many  chips  lie  one  above 
another  at  the  school-house  wood-pile.  But 
he  does  care,  whether  he  is  at  the  head  or 
foot  of  his  class ;  whether  the  money 
dangles  from  his  own  neck  or  another's. 
This  is  the  secret  of  the  interest  in  spelling. 
Emulation  is  awakened,  ambition  roused. 
There  is  something  like  the  tug  of  strength 
in  the  wrestle,  something  of  the  alternation 
of  hope  and  fear  in  a  game  of  chance. 
There  has  been  a  special  preparation  for 
the  trial.  Observe  this  class  any  day,  half 
an  hour  before  they  are  called  up  to  read. 
What  a  flitting  from  top  to  bottom  of  the 
spelling  column,  and  what  a  flutter  of  lips 
and  hissing  of  utterance  !  Now  the  eye 
twinkles  on  the  page  to  catch  a  word,  and 
now  it  is  fixed  on  the  empty  air,  while  the 
orthography  is  syllabled  over  and  over 
again  in  mind,  until  at  length  it  is  syllabled 
on  the  memory.  But  the  time  of  trial  has 
come  ;  they  have  only  to  read  first.  "  The 
third  class  may  come  and  read."  "O  dear, 
I  haven't  got  my  spelling  lesson,"  mutters 


82  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

Charlotte  to  herself.  She  has  just  begun 
the  art  of  writing  this  winter,  and  she  lin- 
gered a  little  loo  long  at  her  hooks  and 
trammels.  The  lesson  seems  to  her  to 
have  as  many  again  hard  words  in  it  as 
common.  What  a  flutter  she  is  in  I  She 
got  up  above  George  in  the  forenoon,  and 
she  would  not  get  down  again  for  any 
thing.  She  is  as  slow  in  coming  from  her 
seat  as  she  possibly  can  be  and  keep  mov- 
ing. She  makes  a  chink  in  her  book 
with  her  finger,  and  every  now  and  then, 
during  the  reading  exercise,  steals  a  glance 
at  a  difficult  word. 

But  the  reading  is  over,  and  what  a  bright- 
ening up,  as  was  said  before,  with  the  ex- 
ception, perhaps,  of  two  or  three  idle  or 
stupid  boys  at  that  less  honorable  extremity 
of  the  class  called  the  foot !  That  boy  at 
the  head — no,  it  was  a  boy ;  but  Harriet 
has  at  length  got  above  him ;  and,  when 
girls  once  get  to  the  head,  get  them  away 
from  it  if  you  can.  Once  put  the  "  pride  of 
place  "^  into  their  hearts,  and  how  they  will 
queen  it !     Then  they  are  more  sensitive 


AS    IT    WAS.  83 

regarding  any  thing  that  might  lower  them 
in  the  eyes  of  others,-  and  seem  the  least  like 
disgrace.  I  have  known  a  little  girl  to  cry 
the  half  of  one  day,  and  look  melancholy 
the  whole  of  the  next,  on  losing  her  place 
at  the  head.  Girls  are  more  likely  to  arrive 
at  and  keep  the  first  place  in  the  class,  in 
consequence  of  a  little  more  help  from  moth- 
er nature  than  boys  get.  I  believe  that  they 
generally  have  a  memory  more  fitted  for 
catching  and  holding  words  and  other  signs 
addressed  to  the  eye,  than  the  other  sex. 
That  girl  at  the  head  has  studied  her  spell- 
ing lesson,  until  she  is  as  confident  of  every 
word  as  the  unerring  Perry  himself  She 
can  spell  every  word  in  the  column  in  the 
order  it  stands  without  the  master's  "  put- 
ting it  out,"  she  has  been  over  it  so  many 
times.  "  Now,  Mr.  James,  get  up  again  if 
you  can,"  thinks  Harriet.  I  pity  you,  poor 
girl ;  for  James  has  an  ally  that  will  blow 
over  your  proud  castle  in  the  air.  Old  Bo- 
reas, the  king  of  the  winds,  will  order  out  a 
snow-storm  by  and  bye,  to  block  up  the 
roads,  so  that  none  but  booted  and  weath- 


84  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

er-proof  males  can  get  to  school ;  and  you, 
Miss,  must  lose  a  day  or  two,  and  then  find 
yourself  at  the  foot  with  those  blockhead 
boys  who  always  abide  there.  But  let  it 
not  be  thought  that  all  those  foot  lads  are 
deficient  in  intellect.  Look  at  them  when 
the  master's  back  is  turned,  and  you  will 
see  mischievous  ingenuity  enough  to  con- 
vince you  that  they  might  surpass  even 
James  and  Harriet,  had  some  other  facul- 
ties been  called  into  exercise  besides  the 
mere  memory  of  verbalities. 

The  most  extraordinary  spelling,  and  in- 
deed reading  machine,  in  our  school,  was  a 
boy  whom  I  shall  call  Memorus  Word  well. 
He  was  mighty  and  wonderful  in  the  acqui- 
sition and  remembrance  of  words, — of  signs 
without  the  ideas  signified.  The  alphabet 
he  acquired  at  home  before  he  was  two 
years  old.  What  exultation  of  parents, 
what  exclamation  from  admiring  visitors  ! 
"There  was  never  any  thing  like  it."  He 
had  almost  accomplished  his  Abs  before  he 
was  thought  old  enough  for  school.  At  an 
earlier  age  than  usual,  however,  he  was 


AS    IT    WAS.  85 

sent ;  and  then  he  went  from  Ache  to  Abom- 
ination in  half  the  summers  and  winters  it 
took  the  rest  of  us  to  go  over  the  same  space. 
Astonishing  how  quickly  he  mastered  col- 
umn after  column,  section  after  section,  of 
obstinate  orthographies.  Those  martial 
terms  I  have  just  used,  together  with  our 
hero's  celerity,  put  me  in  mind  of  Caesar. 
So  I  will  quote  him.  Memorus  might  have 
said  in  respect  to  the  host  of  the  spelling- 
book,  "I  came,  I  saw,  I  conquered."  He 
generally  stood  at  the  head  of  a  class,  each 
one  of  whom  was  two  years  his  elder.  Poor 
creatures  !  they  studied  hard,  some  of  them, 
but  it  did  no  good  :  Memorus  Wordwell 
was  born  to  be  above  them,  as  some  men 
are  said  to  have  been  "born  to  command." 
At  the  public  examination  of  his  first  win- 
ter, the  people  of  the  district,  and  even  the 
minister,  thought  it  marvelous  that  such 
monstrous  great  words  should  be  mastered 
by  "  such  a  leetle  mite  of  a  boy  !"  Memo- 
rus was  mighty  also  in  saying  those  after 
spelling  matters — the  Key,  the  Abbrevia- 
tions, the  Punctuation,  &c.     These  things 


86  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

were  deemed  of  great  account  to  be  laid  up 
in  remembrance,  although  they  were  all 
very  imperfectly  understood,  and  some  of 
them  not  understood  at  all. 

Punctuation — how  many  hours,  days, 
and  even  weeks,  have  1  tugged  away  to  lift, 
as  it  were,  to  roll  up  into  the  store-house  of 
my  memory,  the  many  long,  heavy  senten- 
ces comprehended  under  this  title !  Only 
survey  (we  use  this  word  when  speaking  of 
considerable  space  and  bulk) — only  survey 
the  first  sentence,  a  transcript  of  which  I 
will  endeavor  to  locate  in  these  narrow 
bounds.  I  would  have  my  readers  of  the 
rising  generation  know  what  mighty  labors 
we  little  creatures  of  five,  six,  and  seven 
years  old  were  set  to  perform  : — 

"  Punctuation  is  the  art  of  pointing,  or  of 
dividing  a  discourse  into  periods  by  points, 
expressing  the  pauses  to  be  made  in  the 
reading  thereof,  and  regulating  the  cadence 
or  elevation  of  the  voice," 

There,  I  have  labored  weeks  on  that; 
for  I  always  had  the  lamentable  defect  of 
mind  not  to  be  able  to  commit  to  memory 


AS    IT    WAS.  87 

what  I  did  not  understand.  My  teachers 
never  aided  me  with  the  least  explanation 
of  the  above-copied  sentence,  nor  of  other 
reading  of  a  similar  character,  which  was 
hkewise  to  be  committed  to  memory.  But 
this  and  all  was  nothing,  as  it  were,  to 
Memorus  Wordwell.  He  was  a  very  Her- 
cules in  this  wilderness  of  words. 

Master  Wordwell  was  a  remarkable  read- 
er too.  He  could  rattle  off  a  word  as  ex- 
tensive as  the  name  of  a  Russian  noble, 
when  he  was  but  five  years  old,  as  easily 
as  the  schoolmaster  himself.  "  He  can  read 
in  the  hardest  chapters  of  the  Testament  as 
fast  agin  as  I  can,"  said  his  mother.  "  I 
never  did  see  nolhin  beat  it,"  exclaimed 
his  father;  "he  speaks  up  as  loud  as  a 
minister."  But  I  have  said  enough  about 
this  prodigy.  I  have  said  thus  much,  be- 
cause, although  he  was  thought  so  surpass- 
ingly bright,  he  was  the  most  decided  ninny 
in  the  school.  The  fact  is,  he  did  not  know 
what  the  sounds  he  uttered  meant.  It  nev- 
er entered  his  head,  nor  the  heads  of  his 
parents  and  most  of  his  teachers,  that  words 


88  THE    DISTiaCT    SCHOOL 

and  sentences  were  written,  and  should  be 
read,  oftly  to  be  understood.  He  lost  some 
of  his  reputation,  however,  when  he  grew 
up  towards  twenty-one,  and  it  was  found 
that  numbers,  in  more  senses  than  one,  were 
far  above  him  in  arithmetic. 

One  little  anecdote  about  Memorus  Word- 
well  before  we  let  him  go,  and  this  long 
chapter  shall  be  no  longer. 

It  happened  one  day  that  the  "  cut  and 
split "  for  the  fire  fell  short,  and  Jonas  Patch 
was  out  wielding  the  axe  in  school  time. 
He  had  been  at  work  about  half  an  hour, 
when  Memorus,  who  was  perceived  to  have 
less  to  do  than  the  rest,  was  sent  out  to  take 
his  place.  He  was  about  ten  years  old, 
and  four  years  younger  than  Jonas.  "  Mem- 
orus, you  may  go  out  and  spell  Jonas." 
Our  hero  did  not  think  of  the  Yankee  sense 
in  which  the  master  used  the  word  S2)ell  : 
indeed  he  had  never  attached  but  one  mean- 
ing to  it,  whenever  it  was  used  with  refer- 
ence to  himself.  He  supposed  the  master  was 
granting  him  a  ride  extraordinary  on  his 
favorite  hobby.    So  he  put  his  spelling-book 


AS    IT    WAS.  89 

under  his  arm,  and  was  out  at  the  wood- 
pile with  the  speed  of  a  boy  rushingto  play. 

"  Ye  got  yer  spellin  lesson,  Jonas  ?  "  was 
his  first  salutation.  "  Haven't  looked  at  it 
yit,"  was  the  reply.  "I  mean  to  cut  up 
this  plaugy  great  log,  spellin  or  no  spellin, 
before  1  go  in.  I  had  as  lieve  keep  warm 
here  choppin  wood,  as  freeze  up  there  in  that 
tarnal  cold  back  seat."  "  Well,  the  master 
sent  me  out  to  hear  you  spell."  "  Did  he  1 
well,  put  out  the  words,  and  I'll  spell." 
Memorus  being  so  distinguishexi  a  speller, 
Jonas  did  not  doubt  but  that  he  was  really 
sent  out  on  this  errand.  So  our  deputy 
spelling-master  mounted  the  top  of  the  wood- 
pile, just  in  front  of  Jonas,  to  put  out  words 
to  his  temporary  pupil,  who  still  kept  on 
putting  out  chips. 

"  Do  you  know  where  the  lesson  begins, 
Jonas'?"  "  No,  I  don't;  but  I  'spose  I  shall 
find  out  now."  "Well,  here 'tis."  (They 
both  belonged  to  the  same  class.)  "  Spell 
A-bom-i-na-tion."  Jonas  spells.  A-b-o-m 
bom  a-bom  (in  the  mean  time  up  goes  the 
axe   high   in    air),    i   a-bom-i   (down    it 

8* 


90  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

goes  again  chuck  into  the  wood)  n-a  na  a- 
bora-i-na  (up  it  goes  again)  t-i-o-n  tion,  a- 
bom-i-na-tion ;  chuck  the  axe  goes  again, 
and  at  the  same  time  out  flies  a  furious 
chip,  and  hits  Memorus  on  the  nose.  At 
this  moment  the  master  appeared  just  at 
the  corner  of  the  school-house,  with  one 
foot  still  on  the  threshold.  "Jonas,  why 
don't  you  come  in?  didn't  I  send  Memorus 
out  to  spell  you?"  "  Yes,  sir,  and  he  has 
been  spelling  me;  how  could  I  come  in  if 
he  spelt  me  here  ?"  At  this  the  master's 
eye  caught  Memorus  perched  upon  the  top- 
stick,  with  his  book  open  upon  his  lap,  rub- 
bing his  nose,  and  just  in  the  act  of  putting 
out  the  next  word  of  the  column.  Ac-com- 
mo-da-tion,  pronounced  Memorus  in  a 
broken  but  louder  voice  than  before;  for  he 
had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  master,  and  he 
wished  to  let  him  know  that  he  was  doing 
his  duty.  This  was  too  much  for  the  mas- 
ter's gravity.  He  perceived  the  mistake, 
and,  without  saying  more,  wheeled  back 
into  the  school-room,  almost  bursting  with 
the  most  tumultuous  laugh  he  ever  tried  to 


AS    IT    WAS.  91 

suppress.  The  scholars  wondered  at  his 
looks,  and  grinned  in  sympathy.  But  in  a 
few  minutes  Jonas  came  in,  followed  by 
Memorus  with  his  spelling-book,  who  ex- 
claimed, "I  have  heard  him  spell  clean 
through  the  whole  lesson,  and  he  didn't 
spell  hardly  none  of  'em  right."  The  mas- 
ter could  hold  in  no  longer,  and  the  scholars 
perceived  the  blunder,  and  there  was  one 
simultaneous  roar  from  pedagogue  and  pu- 
pils; the  scholars  laughing  twice  as  loud 
and  uproariously  in  consequence  of  being 
permitted  to  laugh  in  school-time,  and  to 
do  it  with  the  accompaniment  of  the  mas- 
ter. 


92  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 


CHAPTER    XII. 

MR.  SPOUTSOUND,    THE    SPEAKING   MASTER — THE 
EXHIBITION. 

Now  comes  winter  the  sixth,  of  my  dis- 
trict education.  Our  master  was  as  insig- 
nificant a  personage  as  is  often  met  -with 
beyond  the  age  of  twenty-one.  He  ought 
to  have  been  pedagogue  in  that  land  of  lit- 
tleness, Lilliput.  Our  great  fellows  of  the 
back  seat  might  have  tossed  him  out  of  the 
window  from  the  palm  of  the  hand.  But 
he  possessed  certain  qualifications,  and  pur- 
sued such  a  course  that  he  was  permitted 
to  retain  the  magisterial  seat  through  his 
term,  and  indeed  was  quite  popular  on  the 
whole. 

He  was  as  remarkable  for  the  loudness 
and  compass  of  his  voice,  as  for  the  dimin- 
utiveness  of  his  material  dimensions.  How 
such  a  body  of  sound  could  proceed  from  so 
bodiless  an  existence,  was  a  marvel.      It 


AS    IT    WAS.  93 

seemed  as  unnatural  as  that  a  tremendous 
thunder-clap  should  burst  from  a  speck  of 
cloud  in  the  sky.  He  generally  sat  with 
the  singers  on  the  Sabbath,  and  drowned 
the  feebler  voices  with  the  inundation  of 
his  bass. 

But  it  was  not  with  his  tuneful  powers 
alone,  that  he  "  astonished  the  natives." 
He  was  imagined  to  possess  great  gifts  of 
oratory  likewise.  "  What  a  pity  it  is  that 
he  had  not  been  a  minister!"  was  said. 
It  was  by  his  endowments  and  taste  in  this 
respect  that  he  made  himself  particularly 
memorable  in  our  school.  Mr.  Spoutsound 
had  been  one  quarter  to  an  academy  where 
declamation  was  a  weekly  exercise.  Find- 
ing in  this  ample  scope  for  his  vocal  extra- 
ordinariness  (a  long-winded  word,  to  be 
sure,  but  so  appropriate),  he  became  an  en- 
thusiastic votary  to  the  Ciceronian  art.  The 
principal  qualification  of  an  orator  in  his 
view,  was  height,  depth,  and  breadth  of  ut- 
terance,— quantity  of  sound.  Of  course,  he 
fancied  himself  a  very  lion  in  oratory.  In- 
deed, as  far  as  roaring  would  go,  he  was  a 


94  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

^ 

lion.  This  gentleman  introduced  declama- 
tion, or  the  speaking  of  pieces,  as  it  was 
called,  into  our  school.  He  considered 
"  speaking  of  the  utmost  consequence  in 
this  country,  as  any  boy  might  be  called  to 
a  seat  in  the  legislature,  perhaps,  in  the 
course  of  things."  It  was  a  novelty  to  the 
scholars,  and  they  entered  with  their  whole 
souls  into  the  matter.  It  was  a  pleasant 
relief  to  the  dullness  of  the  old-fashioned 
routine. 

What  a  rummaging  of  books,  pamphlets, 
and  newspapers  now  took  place,  to  find 
pieces  to  speak !  The  American  Preceptor, 
the  Columbian  Orator,  the  Art  of  Reading, 
Scott's  Elocution,  Webster's  Third  Part, 
and  I  know  not  how  many  other  ancients, 
were  taken  down  from  their  dusty  retire- 
ment at  home,  for  the  sake  of  the  specimens 
of  eloquence  they  afforded.  Those  pieces 
were  deemed  best  by  us,  grandsons  of  the 
Revolutionists,  which  most  abounded  in 
those  glorious  words.  Freedom,  Liberty, 
Independence,  and  other  spirit-kindling 
names  and  phrases,  that  might  be  mention- 


AS    IT    WAS.  95 

ed.  Another  recommendation  was  high- 
flown  language,  and  especially  words  that 
were  long  and  sonorous,  such  as  would  roll 
thunderingly  from  the  tongue.  For,  like 
our  district  professor,  we  had  the  impression 
that  noise  was  the  most  important  quality 
in  eloquence.  The  first,  the  second,  and 
the  third  requisite  was  the  same ;  it  was 
noise,  noise,  noise.  Action,  however,  or 
gesticulation,  was  not  omitted.  This  was 
considered  the  next  quahfication  of  the  good 
orator.  So  there  was  the  most  vehement 
swinging  of  arms,  shaking  of  fists,  and 
waving  of  palms.  That  occasional  motion 
of  the  limb  and  force  of  voice,  called  empha- 
sis, was  not  a  characteristic  of  our  eloquence, 
or  rather  it  was  all  emphasis.  Our  utter- 
ance was  something  like  the  continuous 
roar  of  a  swollen  brook  over  a  mill-dam,  and 
our  action  like  the  unintermitted  whirling 
and  clapping  of  adjacent  machinery. 

We  tried  our  talent  in  the  dramatic  way 
likewise.  There  were  numerous  extracts 
from  dramatic  compositions  scattered 
through  the  various  reading  books  we  had 


96  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

mustered.  These  dialogistic  performances 
were  even  more  interesting  than  our  speech- 
ifying in  the  semblance  of  lawyers  and  leg- 
islators. We  more  easily  acquired  an  apti- 
tude for  this  exercise,  as  it  was  somewhat 
like  that  every-day  affair,  conversation.  In 
this  we  were  brought  face  to  face,  voice  to 
voice,  with  each  other,  and  our  social  sym- 
pathies were  kindled  into  glow.  We  talked 
with,  as  well  as  at,  folks.  Then  the  female 
portion  of  the  school  could  take  a  part  in 
the  performance ;  and  who  does  not  know 
that  dialoguing,  as  well  as  dancing,  has 
twice  the  zest  with  a  female  partner  ?  The 
whole  school,  with  the  exception  of  the  very 
least  perhaps,  were  engaged,  indeed  absorb- 
ed, in  this  novel  branch  of  education  intro- 
duced by  Mr.  Spoutsound.  Some,  who 
had  not  got  out  of  their  Abs,  were  taught, 
by  admiring  fathers  and  mothers  at  home, 
little  pieces  by  rote,  and  made  to  screech 
themout  with  a  most  ear-splitting  execution. 
One  lad  in  this  way  committed  to  memory 
that  famous  piece  of  self-puffery  beginning 
with  the  lines, — 


AS    IT    WAS.  97 

"  You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age 
To  speak  in  public  on  the  stage." 

Memorus  Word  well  committed  to  memo- 
ry and  parroted  forth  that  famous  speech  of 
Pitt,  in  which  he  so  eloquently  replies  to 
the  charge  of  being  a  young  man. 

Cicero  at  Athens  was  not  more  assiduous 
in  seeking  the  "immense  and  the  infinite"  in 
eloquence,  than  we  were  in  seeking  the 
great  in  speaking.  Besides  half  an  hour  of 
daily  school-time  set  apart  for  the  exercise 
under  the  immediate  direction  and  exempli- 
fication of  the  master,  our  noonings  were 
devoted  to  the  same,  as  far  as  the  young's 
ruling  passion,  the  love  of  play,  would  per- 
mit. And  on  the  way  to  and  from  school, 
the  pleasure  of  dialogue  would  compete 
with  that  of  dousing  each  other  into  the 
snow.  We  even  "  spoke  "  while  doing  our 
night  and  morning  work  at  home.  A  boy 
might  be  seen  at  the  wood-pile  hacking  at  a 
log  and  a  dialogue  by  turns.  Or  perhaps, 
after  dispensing  the  fodder  to  the  tenants 
of  the  barn,  he  would  mount  a  half-cleared 


98  THE    DISTKICT    SCHOOL 

scaffold,   and   out-bellow    the    wondering 
beeves  below. 

As  the  school  drew  towards  a  close,  Mr. 
Spoutsound  proposed  to  have  an  exhibition 
in  addition  to  the  usual  examination,  on  the 
last  day,  or  rather  the  evening  of  it.  Our 
oratorical  gifts  and  accomplishments  must 
be  publicly  displayed;  which  is  next  to 
publicly  using  them  in  the  important  affairs 
of  the  town,  the  state,  or  the  country. 

"An  Exhibition  ! — I  want  to  know!  can 
it  be  7"  There  had  never  been  any  thing" 
like  it  in  the  district  before,  nor  indeed  in 
the  town.  Such  a  thing  had  scarcely  been 
heard  of,  except  by  some  one  whose  uncle 
or  cousin  had  been  to  the  academy  or  to 
college.  The  people  of  the  district  were 
wide  awake.  The  younger  portion  of  them 
could  hardly  sleep  nights. 

The  scholars  are  requested  to  select  the 
pieces  they  would  prefer  to  speak,  whether 
speeches  or  dialogues  ;  and  to  arrange 
among  themselves  who  should  be  fellow- 
partners  in  the  dramatical  performances. 
The  master,  however,  retained  the  right  of 


AS    IT    WAS.  99 

veto  on  their  choice.  Now,  what  a  rustle 
of  leaves  and  flutter  of  lips  in  school-hours, 
and  noisier  flapping  of  books  and  clatter  of 
tongues  at  noon,  in  settling  who  shall  have 
which,  and  who  speak  with  whom.  At 
length  all  is  arranged,  and  mostly  to  the 
minds  of  all.  Then,  for  a  week  or  two  be- 
fore the  final  consummation  of  things  elo- 
quent, it  was  nothing  but  rehearsal.  No 
pains  were  spared  by  any  one  that  he  might 
be  perfect  in  the  recollection  and  flourishing- 
off"  of  his  part.  Dialoguists  were  grouped 
together  in  every  corner.  There  was  a 
buzz  in  the  back  seat,  a  hum  in  the  closet, 
a  screech  in  the  entry,  and  the  very  climax 
of  vociferation  in  the  spelling-floor.  Here 
the  solos  (if  I  may  borrow  a  term  from  mu- 
sic) were  rehearsed  under  the  immediate 
criticism  of  Mr.  Spoutsound,  whose  chief 
delight  was  in  forensic  and  parliamentary 
eloquence.  The  old  school-house  was  a 
little  Babel  in  the  confusion  of  tongues. 

The  expected  day  at  length  arrives. 
There  must  be,  of  course,  the  usual  exami- 
nation in  the  afternoon.      But  nobody  at- 


100  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

tended  this  but  the  minister,  and  the  com- 
mittee who  engaged  the  master.  The  peo- 
ple of  the  district  all  intended  to  be  at  the 
exhibition  in  the  evening,  and  examination 
was  "just  nothing  at  all"  with  that  in 
prospect.  And,  in  fact,  it  was  just  nothing 
at  all ;  for  the  "  ruling  passion  "  had  swal- 
lowed up  very  much  of  the  lime  that  should 
have  been  devoted  to  the  really  important 
branches  of  education. 

After  the  finishing  of  the  school,  a  stage 
was  erected  at  the  end  of  the  spelling-floor, 
next  to  the  desk  and  the  closet.  It  was 
hung  round  with  checked  bed-blankets,  in 
the  semblance  of  theatrical  curtains,  to  con- 
ceal any  preparations  that  might  be  neces- 
sary between  the  pieces. 

The  exhibition  was  to  commence  at  half- 
past  six.  Before  that  time,  the  old  school- 
house  was  crowded  to  the  utmost  of  its  ca- 
pacity for  containing,  by  the  people  not 
only  of  our  district,  but  of  other  parts  of 
the  town.  The  children  were  wedged  into 
chinks  too  narrow  for  the  admission  of  the 
grown-up.     Never  were  a  multitude  of  liv- 


AS    IT    WAS.  101 

ing  bodies  more  completely  compressed  and 
amalgamated  into  one  continuous  mass. 

On  the  front  writing-bench,  just  before 
the  stage,  and  facing  the  audience,  sat  the 
four  first,  and  some  of  the  most  interesting 
performers  on  the  occasion,  viz.;  players  on 
the  clarionet,  violin,  bass-viol,  and  bassoon. 
But  they  of  the  bow  were  sorely  troubled 
at  first.  Time  and  space  go  together  with 
them,  you  know.  They  cannot  keep  the 
first  without  possessing  the  latter.  As  they 
sat,  their  semibreves  were  all  shortened 
into  minims,  indeed  into  crotchets,  for  lack 
of  elbow-room.  At  length  the  violinist 
stood  up  straight  on  the  writing-bench,  so 
as  to  have  an  unimpeded  stretch  in  the 
empty  air,  above  the  thicket  of  heads. 
His  fellow-sufferer  then  contrived  to  stand 
so  that  his  long  bow  could  sweep  freely  be- 
tween the  steady  heads  of  two  broad-shoul- 
dered men,  out  of  danger  from  joggling 
boys.  This  band  discoursed  what  was  to 
our  ears  most  eloquent  music,  as  a  prelude 
to  the  musical  eloquence  which  was  to  be 
the   chief  entertainment   of   the  occasion. 

9# 


102  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

They  played  intermediately  also,  and  gave 
the  winding-off  flourish  of  sound. 

At  forty  minutes  past  six,  the  curtain 
rose ;  that  is,  the  bed-blankets  were  pulled 
aside.  There  stood  Mr.  Spoutsound  on  the 
stage,  in  all  the  pomp  possible  to  diminu- 
tiveness.  He  advanced  two  steps,  and 
bowed  as  profoundly  from  height  to  depth 
as  his  brevity  of  stature  would  admit.  He 
then  opened  the  exhibition  by  speaking  a 
poetical  piece  called  a  Prologue,  which  he 
found  in  one  of  the  old  reading-books.  As 
this  was  originally  composed  as  an  intro- 
duction to  a  stage  performance,  it  was 
thought  appropriate  on  this  occasion.  Mr. 
Spoutsound  now  put  forth  in  all  the  pleni- 
tude of  his  utterance.  It  seemed  a  vocal 
cataract,  all  torrent,  thunder,  and  froth. 
But  it  wanted  room, — an  abyss  to  empty 
into;  and  all  it  ha.d  was  the  remnant  of 
space  left  in  our  little  school-room.  A  few 
of  the  audience  were  overwhelmed  with  the 
pour  and  rush  and  roar  of  the  pent-up 
noise,  and  the  rest  with  admiration,  yea, 


AS    IT    WAS.  103 

astonishment,  that  the  schoolmaster  ^^ could 
speak  so  J' 

He  ceased — it  was  all  as  still  as  if  every 
other  voice  had  died  of  envy.  He  bowed  — 
there  was  then  a  general  breathing,  as  if 
the  vocals  were  just  coming  to  life  again. 
He  sat  down  on  a  chair  placed  on  the 
stage ;  tHen  there  was  one  general  buzz, 
above  which  arose,  here  and  there,  a  living 
and  loud  voice.  Above  this,  soon  arose  the 
exaltation  of  the  orator's  favorite  march; 
for  he  deemed  it  proper  that  his  own  per- 
formance should  be  separated  from  those  of 
his  pupils  by  some  length  and  loftiness  of 
music. 

Now  the  exhibition  commenced  in  good 
earnest.  The  dramatists  dressed  in  cos- 
tumes according  to  the  character  to  be  sus- 
tained, as  far  as  all  the  old  and  odd  dresses 
that  could  be  mustered  up  would  enable 
them  to  do  so.  The  district,  and  indeed 
the  town,  had  been  ransacked  for  revolu- 
tionary coats  and  cocked-up  hats  and  other 
grand- fatherly  and  grand-motherly  attire. 

The  people  present  were  quite  as  much 


104  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

amused  with  the  spectacle  as  with  the 
speaking.  To  see  the  old  fashions  on  the 
young  folks,  and  to  see  the  young  folks 
personating  characters  so  entirely  opposite 
to  their  own ;  for  instance,  the  slim,  pale- 
faced  youth,  by  the  aid  of  stuffing,  look- 
ing, and  acting  the  fat  old  wine-bibber; 
the  blooming  girl  of  seventeen,  putting  on 
the  cap,  the  kerchief,  and  the  character  of 
seventy-five,  &c. — all  this  was  ludicrously 
strange.  A  very  refined  taste  might  have 
observed  other  things  that  were  strangely 
ludicrous  in  the  elocution  and  gesticulation 
of  these  disciples  of  Mr.  Spoutsound;  but 
most  of  the  company  present  were  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  perceive  no  bad  taste  to  mar 
their  enjoyment. 

The  little  boy  of  five  spoke  the  little 
piece — 

"  You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age,"  &c. 

I  recollect  another  line  of  the  piece  which 
has  become  singularly  verified  in  the  histo- 
ry of  the  lad.     It  is  this — 

"  Tall  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow." 


AS    IT    WAS.  105 

Now,  this  acorn  of  eloquence,  which  sprout- 
ed forth  so  vigorously  on  this  occasion,  has 
at  length  grown  into  a  mighty  oak  of  ora- 
tory on  his  native  hills.  He  has  flourished 
in  a  Fourth  of  July  oration  before  his  fel- 
low-townsmen. 

Memorus  Wordwell,  who  at  this  time 
was  eleven  years  old,  yelped  forth  the  afore- 
mentioned speech  of  Pitt.  In  the  part 
replying  to  the  taunt  that  the  author  of  the 
speech  was  a  young  man,  Memorus  "beat 
all."  Next  to  the  master  himself,  he  ex- 
cited the  greatest  admiration,  and  particu- 
larly in  his  father  and  mother. 

But  this  chapter  must  be  ended,  so  we 
will  skip  to  the  end  of  this  famous  exhibi- 
tion. At  a  quarter  past  ten,  the  curtain 
dropped  for  the  last  time ;  that  is,  the  bed- 
blankets  were  pulled  down  and  put  into 
the  sleighs  of  their  owners,  to  be  carried 
home  to  be  spread  over  the  dreamers  of 
acts,  instead  of  being  hung  before  the  actors 
of  dreams.  The  little  boys  and  girls  did 
not  get  to  bed  till  eleven  o'clock  that  night, 
nor  all  of  them  to  sleep  till  twelve.     They 


106  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

were  never  more  the  pupils  of  Mr.  Spout- 
sound.  He  soon  migrated  to  one  of  the 
states  beyond  the  Alleghany.  There  he 
studied  law  not  more  than  a  year  certainly, 
and  was  admitted  to  the  Bar.  It  is  ru- 
mored that  he  soon  spoke  himself  into  the 
legislature,  and  as  soon  spoke  himself  out 
again.  Whether  he  will  speak  himself  into 
Congress  is  a  matter  of  exceeding  doubt. 
I  have  nothing  more  to  add  respecting  the 
speaking  master,  or  the  speaking,  except- 
ing that  one  shrewd  old  man  was  heard  to 
say  on  leaving  the  school-house,  exhibition 
night,  "  A  great  cry,  but  little  wool." 


AS    IT    WAS.  107 

CHAPTER     XIII. 

LEARNING    TO    WRITE. 

The  winter  I  was  nine  years  old,  I  made 
another  advance  toward  the  top  of  the  lad- 
der, in  the  circumstance  of  learning  to  wjite. 
I  desired  and  pleaded  to  commence  the  chi- 
rographical  art  the  summer,  and  indeed  the 
winter  before ;  for  others  of  my  own  age 
were  at  it  thus  early.  But  my  father  said 
that  my  fingers  were  hardly  stout  enough 
to  manage  a  quill  from  his  geese ;  but  that, 
if  I  would  put  up  with  the  quill  of  a  hen,  I 
might  try.  This  pithy  satire  put  an  end  to 
my  teasing. 

Having  previously  had  the  promise  of 
writing  this  winter,  I  had  made  all  the  nec- 
essary preparations,  days  before  school 
was  to  begin.  I  had  bought  me  a  new 
birch  ruler,  and  had  given  a  third  of  my 
wealth,  four  cents,  for  it.  To  this  I  had 
appended,  by  a  well-twisted  flaxen  string. 


108  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 


a  plummet  of  my  own  running,  whittling, 
and  scraping.  I  had  hunted  up  an  old 
pewter  inkstand,  which  had  come  down 
from  the  ancestral  eminence  of  my  great 
grandfather,  for  aught  I  know;  and  it  bore 
many  marks  of  a  speedier  and  less  honora- 
ble descent,  to  wit,  from  table  or  desk  to  the 
floor.  I  had  succeeded  in  becoming  the 
owner  of  a  pen-knife,  no't  that  it  was  likely 
to  be  applied  to  its  appropriate  use  that 
Avinter  at  least ;  for  such  beginners  generally 
used  the  instrument  to  mar  that  kind  of  pens 
they  wrote  in,  rather  than  to  make  or  mend 
those  they  wrote  with.  I  had  selected  one 
of  the  fairest  quills  out  of  an  enormous 
bunch.  Half  a  quire  of  foolscap  had  been 
folded  into  the  shape  of  a  writing-book  by 
the  maternal  hand,  and  covered  with  brown 
paper,  nearly  as  thick  as  a  sheepskin. 

Behold  me  now,  on  the  first  Monday  in 
December,  starting  for  school,  with  my  new 
and  clean  writing-book  buttoned  under  my 
jacket,  my  inkstand  in  my  pocket,  a  bun- 
dle of  necessary  books  in  one  hand,  and  my 
ruler  and  swinging  plummet  in  the  other, 


AS    IT    WAS.  109 

which  I  flourished  in  the  air  and  around 
my  head,  till  the  sharpened  lead  made  its 
first  mark  on  my  own  face.  My  long 
white-feathered  goose-quill  was  twisted 
into  my  hat-band,  like  a  plumy  badge  of 
the  distinction  to  which  I  had  arrived,  and 
the  important  enterprise  before  me. 

On  arriving  at  the  school-house,  I  took  a 
seat  higher  up  and  more  honorable  than  the 
one  I  occupied  the  winter  before.  At  the 
proper  time,  my  writing-book,  which,  with 
my  quill,  I  had  handed  to  the  master  on 
entering,  was  returned  to  me,  with  a  copy 
set,  and  paper  ruled  and  pen  made.  My 
copy  was  a  single  straight  mark,  at  the  first 
corner  of  my  manuscript.  "  A  straight 
mark!  who  could  not  make  so  simple  a 
thing  as  that?"  thought  1.  I  waited, 
however,  to  see  how  the  boy  next  to  me,  a 
beginner  also,  should  succeed,  as  he  had 
got  ready  a  moment  before  me.  Never 
shall  I  forget  the  first  chirographical  exploit 
of  this  youth.  That  inky  image  will  never 
be  eradicated  from  my  memory,  so  long  as 
a  smgle  trace  of  early  experience  is  left  on 


110  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

its  tablet.  The  factis,  it  was  an  epoch  in  my 
Hfe:  something  great  was  to  be  done,  and 
my  attention  was  intensely  awake  to  what- 
ever had  a  bearing  on  this  new  and  import- 
ant trial  of  my  powers.  I  looked  to  see  a 
mark  as  straight  as  a  ruler,  having  its  four 
corners  as  distinctly  defined  as  the  angles 
of  a  parallelogram. 

But,  O  me !  what  a  spectacle !  What  a 
shocking  contrast  to  my  anticipation !  That 
mark  had  as  many  crooks  as  a  ribbon  in 
the  wind,  and  nearer  eight  angles  than  four; 
and  its  two  sides  were  nearly  as  rough  and 
as  notched  as  a  fine  handsaw ;  and,  indeed, 
the  mark  somewhat  resembled  it  in  width, 
for  the  fellow  had  laid  in  a  store  of  ink 
sufficient  to  last  the  journey  of  the  whole 
line.  "  Shame  on  him  ! "  said  I,  internally, 
"  I  can  beat  that,  I  know."  I  began  by 
setting  my  pen  firmly  on  the  paper,  and  I 
brought  a  mark  half-way  down  with  recti- 
linear precision.  But  by  this  time  my  head 
began  to  swim,  and  my  hand  to  tremble.  I 
was  as  it  were  in  vacancy,  far  below  the 
upper  ruling,  and  as  far  above  the  lower. 


AS    IT    WAS.  Ill 

My  self-possession  failed ;  my  pen  diverged 
to  the  right,  then  to  the  left,  crooking  all 
the  remainder  of  its  way,  with  as  many  zig- 
zags as  conld  well  be  in  so  short  a  distance. 
Mine  was  as  sad  a  failure  as  my  neighbor's. 
I  covered  it  over  with  my  fingers,  and  did 
not  jog  him  with  a  "  see  there,"  as  I  had 
vainly  anticipated. 

So  much  for  pains-taking,  now  for  chance. 
By  good  luck  the  next  effort  was  quite  suc- 
cessful. I  now  dashed  on,  for  better  or 
worse,  till  in  one  half-hour  I  had  covered 
the  whole  page  with  the  standing,  though 
seemingly  falling,  monuments  of  the  chiro- 
graphical  wisdom  of  my  teacher,  and  skill 
of  myself.  In  the  afternoon  a  similar  copy 
was  set,  and  I  dashed  on  again  as  if  I  had 
taken  so  much  writing  by  the  job,  and  my 
only  object  was  to  save  time.  Now  and 
then  there  was  quite  a  reputable  mark ;  but 
alas — for  him  whose  perception  of  the  beau- 
tiful was  particularly  delicate,  should  he 
get  a  glimpse  of  these  sloughs  of  ink  ! 

The  third  morning,  my  copy  was  the  first 
element  of  the  m  and  n,  or  what  in  bur- 


112  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

lesqiie  is  called  a  hook.  On  my  fourth,  I 
had  the  last  half  of  the  same  letters,  or  the 
trammel ;  and  indeed  they  were  the  simili- 
tudes of  hooks  and  trammels,  forged  in  a 
country  plenteous  in  iron,  and  by  the 
youngest  apprentice  at  the  hammer  and 
anvil. 

In  this  way  I  went  through  all  the  small 
letters,  as  they  are  called.  First,  the  ele- 
ments or  constituent  parts,  then  the  whole 
character  in  which  these  parts  were  com- 
bined. 

Then  I  must  learn  to  make  the  capitals, 
before  entering  on  joining  hand.  Four  pages 
were  devoted  to  these.  Capital  letters ! 
They  were  capital  offences  against  all  that 
is  graceful,  indeed  decent,  yea  tolerable,  in 
that  art  which  is  so  capable  of  beautiful 
forms  and  proportions. 

I  came  next  to  joining  hand,  about  three 
■jveeks  after  my  commencement ;  and  join- 
ing hand  indeed  it  was  !  It  seemed  as  if 
my  hooks  and  trammels  were  overheated 
in  the  forge,  and  were  melted  into  each 
other ;    the  shapeless  masses  so  clung  to- 


AS    IT    WAS.  113 

gether  at  points  where  they  ought  to  have 
been  separate,  so  very  far  were  they  from 
all  resemblance  to  conjoined,  yet  distinct 
and  well-defined  characters. 

Thus  I  went  on,  a  perfect  little  prodigal 
in  the  expenditure  of  paper,- ink,  pens  and 
time.  The  first  winter,  I  splashed  two, 
and  the  next,  three  writing-books  with  inky 
puddle,  in  learning  coarse  hand;  and,  after 
all,  I  had  gained  not  much  in  penmanship, 
except  a  workmanlike  assurance  and  celeri- 
ty of  execution,  such  as  is  natural  to  an  old 
hand  at  the  business. 

The  third  winter,  I  commenced  small 
hand,  or  rather  fine,  as  it  is  more  technically 
denominated;  or  rather  a  copy  of  half-way 
dimensions,  that  the  change  to  fine  running- 
hand  might  not  be  too  sudden.  From  this 
dwarfish  coarse,  or  giant  fine  hand, — ^justas 
you  please  to  call  it, — I  slid  down  to  the 
genuine  epistolary  and  mercantile,  with  a 
capital  at  the  head  of  the  line,  as  much  out 
of  proportion  as  a  corpulent  old  captain 
marching  in  single  file  before  a  parade  of 
little  boys. 


114  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

-  Some  of  our  teachers  were  accustomed  to 
spend  a  few  minutes,  forenoon  and  after- 
noon, in  going  round  among  the  writers  to 
see  that  they  held  the  pen  properly,  and 
look  a  decent  degree  of  pains.  But  the 
majority  of  them,  according  to  present  rec- 
ollections, never  stirred  from  the  desk  to 
superintend  this  branch.  There  was  some- 
thing like  an  excuse,  however,  for  not  vis- 
iting their  pupils  while  at  the  pen.  Sitting 
as  they  did  in  those  long,  narrow,  ricketty 
seats,  one  could  hardly  be  got  at  without 
joggling  two  or  three  others,  displacing  a 
writing-book,  knocking  over  an  inkstand, 
and  making  a  deal  of  rustle,  rattle,  and 
racket. 

Some  of  the  teachers  set  the  copies  at 
home  in  the  evening,  but  most  set  them  in 
school.  Six  hours  per  day  were  all  that 
custom  required  of  a  teacher:  of  course, 
half  an  hour  at  home  spent  in  the  matters 
of  the  school  would  have  been  time  and 
labor  not  paid  for,  and  a  gratuity  not  par- 
ticularly expected.  On  entering  in  the 
morning,  and  looking  for  the  master  as  the 


AS    IT    WAS.  115 

object  at  which  to  make  the  customary 
"  manners,"  we  could  perceive  just  the 
crown  of  his  head  beyond  a  huge  stack  of 
manuscripts,  which,  together  witli  his  copy- 
setting  attention,  prevented  the  bowed  and 
courtesied  respects  from  his  notice.  A  few 
of  the  most  advanced  in  penmanship  had 
copper-plate  slips,  as  they  were  called, 
tucked  into  their  manuscripts,  for  the  trial 
of  their  more  skillful  hands ;  or,  if  an  ordi- 
nary learner  had  for  once  done  extraordi- 
narily well,  he  was  permitted  a  slip  as  a 
mark  of  merit,  and  a  circumstance  of  en- 
couragement. Sometimes,  when  the  mas- 
ter was  pressed  for  time,  all  the  joining- 
handers  were  thus  furnished.  It  was  a 
pleasure  to  have  copies  of  this  sort;  their 
polished  shades,  graceful  curves,  and  deli- 
cate hair  lines,  were  so  like  a  picture  for  the 
eye  to  dwell  upon.  But,  when  we  set  about 
the  work  of  imitation,  discouragement  took 
the  place  of  pleasure.  "After  all,  give  us 
the  master's  hand,"  we  thought;  "we  can 
come  up  to  that  now  and  then."  We  des- 
paired of  ever  becoming  decent  penmen  with 


116  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

this  copper-plate  perfection  mocking  our 
clumsy  fingers. 

There  was  one  item  in  penmanship 
which  our  teachers  generally  omitted  alto- 
gether. It  was  the  art  of  making  and  mend- 
ing pens.  I  suffer,  and  others  on  my  ac- 
count suffer,  from  this  neglect  even  at  this 
day.  The  untraceable  "  partridge  tracks," 
as  some  one  called  them,  with  which  I  per- 
plex my  correspondents,  and  am  now  about 
to  provoke  the  printer,  are  chargeable  to  my 
ignorance  in  pen-making.  It  is  a  fact,  how- 
ever some  acquaintances  may  doubt  it,  that 
I  generally  write  very  legibly,  if  not  grace- 
fully, whenever  I  borrow,  beg,  or  steal  a 
pen. 

Let  not  the  faithful  Wrifford,  should  his 
eye  chance  to  fall  on  this  lament,  think  that 
I  have  forgotten  his  twelve  lessons,  of  one 
hour  each,  on  twelve  successive,  cold  No- 
vember days,  when  I  was  just  on  the  eve 
of  commencing  pedagogue  for  the  first  time 
— (for  I,  too,  have  kept  a  district  school,  in  a 
manner  somewhat  Uke  "as  it  was") — I  have 
not  forgotten  them.     He  did  well  for  me. 


AS    IT    WAS.  117 

But,  alas^  his  tall  form  bent  over  my  shoul- 
der, his  long  flexile  finger  adjusted  ifiy 
pen,  and  his  vigilant  eye  glanced  his  admo- 
nitions, in  vain.  That  thirteenth  lesson 
which  he  added  gratis,  lo  teach  us  pen- 
making,  I  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose. 
Lamentable  to  me  and  to  many  others,  that 
I  was  kept  away. 

I  blush  while  I  acknowledge  it,  but  I 
have  taught  school,  have  taught  penman- 
ship, have  made  and  mended  a  hundred 
pens  a  day,  and  all  the  time  I  knew  not 
much  more  of  the  art  of  turning  quill  into 
pen,  than  did  the  goose  from  whose  wing 
it  was  plucked.  But  my  manufactures 
were  received  by  my  pupils,  as  good.  Good, 
of  course,  they  must  be ;  for  the  master 
made  them,  and  who  should  dare  to  ques- 
tion his  competency  7  If  the  instrument  did 
not  operate  well,  the  fault  must  certainly 
be  in  the  fingers  that  wielded,  not  those 
that  wrought  it. 

O  ye  pedagogues,  whom  I  have  here  con- 
demned to  "  everlasting  fame !"  taking  it 
for  granted  that  this  record  will  be  famous 


118  THE    DISTKICT    SCHOOL 

forever,  be  not  too  angry  with  my  humble 
authorship;  for  I,  too,  let  it  be  repeated, 
have  kept  a  district  school  as  it  was^  as  well 
as  been  to  one.  But,  brother  pedagogues  of 
the  past !  I  will  tell  you  what  I  purpose  to 
do :  perhaps  some  of  you  will  purpose  to  do 
so  likewise.  Should  this  exposure  of  our 
deficiencies  meet  with  a  tolerable  sale,  I 
purpose  to  employ  a  teacher  in  the  art  of 
cutting,  splitting,  and  shaving  pen  timber 
into  the  best  possible  fitness  for  chirographic 
use.  It  is  my  heart's  hope,  and  it  shall  be 
my  hand's  care,  that  he  may  not  teach  in 
vain.  Then,  if  I  cannot  make  amends  to 
my  cheated  pupils,  I  trust  that  the  wearied 
eyes  and  worn-out  patience  of  former  tra- 
cers of  "  partridge  tracks  "  shall  recover,  to 
be  thus  wearied  and  worn  out  no  more. 


AS    IT    WAS.  119 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

SEVENTH  WINTER,  BUT  NOT  MUCH  ABOUT  IT 

EIGHTH  WINTER MR.  JOHNSON — GOOD  OR- 
DER, AND  BUT  LITTLE  PUNISHING A  STORY 

■  ABOUT  PUNISHING — NINTH  WINTER. 

Of  my  seventh  winter  I  have  but  little  to 
say;  for  but  little  was  done  worthy  of  rec- 
ord here.  We  had  an  indolent  master  and 
an  idle  school.  Some  tried  to  kindle  up 
the  speaking  spirit  again ;  but  the  teacher 
had  no  taste  that  way.  But  there  was  dia- 
loguing enough  nevertheless — in  that  form 
called  tohispering.  Our  school  was  a  thea- 
tre in  earnest;  for  "plays"  were  going  on 
all  the  time.  It  was  "acting"  to  the  life, 
acting  anyrhow  rather  than  like  scholars  at 
their  books.  But  let  that  winter  and  its 
works,  or  rather  want  of  works,  pass.  Of 
the  eighth  I  can  say  something  worth  notice 
I  think. 


120  THE    DISmiCT    SCHOOL 

In  consequence  of  the  lax  discipline  of 
the  two  last  winters,  the  school  had  fallen 
into  very  idle  and  turbulent  habits.  "  A 
master  that  will  keep  order,  a  master  that 
will  keep  order  !"  was  the  cry  throughout 
the  district.  Accordingly  such  a  one  was 
sought,  and  fortunately  found.  A  certain 
Mr.  Johnson,  who  had  taught  in  a  neigh- 
boring town,  w?[s^famous  for  his  strictness, 
and  that  without  much  punishhig.  He 
was*  oDtained  at  a  little  higher  price  than 
usual,  and  was  thought  to  be  well  worth 
the  price.  I  will  describe  his  person,  and 
relate  an  incident  as  characteristic  of  the 
man. 

Mr.  Johnson  was  full  six  feet  high,  with 
the  diameter  of  his  chest  and  limbs  in  equal 
proportion.  His  face  was  long,  and  as 
dusky  as  a  Spaniard's  ;  and  the  dark  was 
still  darkened  by  the  roots  of  an  enormous 
beard.  His  eyes  were  black,  and  looked 
floggings  and  blood  from  out  their  cavernous 
sockets,  which  were  overhung  by  eyebrows 
not  unhke  brush-heaps.  His  hair  was 
black  and  curly,  and  extended  down,  and 


AS    IT    WAS.  121 

expanded  on  each  side  of  his  face  in  a  pair 
of  whiskers  a  freebooter  might  have  envied. 
He  possessed  the  longest,  widest,  and 
thickest  ruler  I  ever  saw.  This  was  sel- 
dom brandished  in  his  hand,  but  generally 
lay  in  sight  upon  the  desk.  Although  he 
was  so  famous  for  his  orders  in  school,  he 
scarcely  ever  had  to  use  his  punitive  instru- 
ment. His  look,  bearing,  and  voice  were 
enough  for  the  subjection  of  the  most  riot- 
ous school.  Never  was  our  school  so  still 
and  so  studious  as  this  winter.  A  circum- 
stance occurred  the  very  first  day,  which 
drove  every  thing  like  mischief  in  conster- 
nation from  every  scholar's  heart.  Abijali 
Wilkins  had  for  years  been  called  the  worst 
boy  in  school.  Masters  could  do  nothing 
with  him.  He  was  surly,  saucy,  profane, 
and  truthless.  Mr.  Patch  took  him  from 
an  alms-house  when  he  was  eight  years  old, 
which  was  eight  years  before  the  point  of 
time  now  in  view.  In  his  family  were 
mended  neither  his  disposition,  his  manners, 
nor  even  his  clothes.  He  looked  like  a 
morose,   unpitied    pauper  still.      He    had 


122  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL    . 

shaken  his  knurly  and  filthy  fist  in  the  very 
face  and  eyes  of  the  last  winter's  teacher. 
Mr.  Johnson  was  told  of  this  son  of  perdi- 
tion before  he  began,  and  was  prepared  to 
take  some  eflicient  step  at  his  first  offence. 

Well,  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day,  Abi- 
jah  thrust  a  pin  into  a  boy  beside  him, 
which  made  him  suddenly  cry  out  with  the 
sharp  pain.  The  sufferer  was  questioned  ; 
Abijah  was  accused,  and  found  guilty.  The 
master  requested  James  Clark  to  go  to  his 
room,  and  bring  a  rattan  he  would  find 
there,  as  if  the  formidable  ferule  was  un- 
equal to  the  present  exigency.  James  came 
with  a  rattan  very  long  and  very  elastic, 
as  if  it  had  been  selected  from  a  thousand, 
not  to  walk  with,  but  to  whip.  Then  he 
ordered  all  the  blinds  next  to  the  road  to  be 
closed.  He  then  said,  "Abijah,  come  this 
way."  He  came.  "  The  school  may  shut 
their  books,  and  suspend  their  studies  a  few 
minutes.  Abijah,  take  off  your  frock,  fold 
it  up,  lay  it  on  the  seat  behind  you."  Abi- 
jah obeyed  these  several  commands  with 
sullen  tardiness.     Here,  a  boy  up  towards 


AS    IT    WAS.  123 

the  back  seat  burst  out  with  a  sort  of  shud- 
dering laugh,  produced  by  a  nervous  ex- 
citement he  could  not  control,  "Silence!" 
said  the  master,  with  a  thunder,  and  a 
stamp  on  the  floor  that  made  the  house 
quake.  All  was  as  still  as  midnight — ^not 
a  foot  moved,  not  a  seat  cracked,  not  a 
book  rustled.  The  school  seemed  to  be 
appalled.  The  expression  of  every  counte- 
nance was  changed  ;  some  were  unnatu- 
rally pale,  some  flushed,  and  eighty  disten- 
ded and  moistening  eyes  were  fastened  on 
the  scene.  The  awful  expectation  was  too 
much  for  one  poor  girl.  "May  I  go  home?" 
she  whined  with  an  imploring  and  terrified 
look.  A  single  cast  from' the  coimtenance 
of  authority  crushed  the  trembler  down 
into  her  seat  again.  A  tremulous  sigh 
escaped  from  one  of  the  larger  girls,  then 
all  was  breathlessly  still  again.  "Take  off" 
your  jacket  also,  Abijah.  Fold  it,  and  lay 
it  on  your  frock."  Mr.  Johnson  then  took 
his  chair,  and  set  it  away  at  the  farthest 
distance  the  floor  would  permit,  as  if  all  the 
space  that  could  be  had  would  be  necessa- 


124  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

ry  for  the  operations  about  to  take  place. 
He  then  took  the  rattan,  and  seemed  to  ex- 
amine it  closely,  drew  it  through  his  hand, 
bent  it  almost  double,  laid  it  down  again. 
He  then  took  off  his  own  coat,  folded  it  up, 
and  laid  it  on  the  desk.     Abijah's  breast 
then  heaved  like  a  bellows,  his  limbs  began 
to  tremble,  and  his  face  was  like  a  sheet. 
The  master  now  took  the  rattan  in  his  right 
hand,  and  the  criminal  by  the  collar  with 
his  left,  his  large  knuckles  pressing  hard 
against  the  shoulder  of  the  boy.     He  raised 
the   stick   high  over  the  shrinking  back. 
Then,  oh  !    what  a  screech !      Had  the  rod 
fallen?    No,  it  still  remained  suspended  in 
the  air.     "O — I  wont  do  so  agin — I'll  never 
do  so  agin — O — O — don't — I  will  be  good — 
sartinly  will."   The  threatening  instrument 
of  pain  was  gently  taken  from  its  elevation. 
The  master  spoke:  "You  promise,  do  you?" 
"Yis,  sir, — oh!  yis,  sir."    The  tight  grasp 
was  withdrawn  from  the  collar.     "  Put  on 
your  frock  and  jacket,  and  go  to  your  seat. 
The  rest  of  you   may   open   your  books 
again."    The  school  breathed  again.    Paper 


AS    IT    WAS.  '*'  125 

rustled,  feet  were  carefully  moved,  the  seats 
slightly  cracked,  and  all  thmgs  went  stilly 
on  as  before.  Abijah  kept  his  promise.  He 
became  an  altered  boy;  obedient,  peacea- 
ble, studious.  This  long  and  slow  process 
of  preparing  for  the  punishment  was  art- 
fully designed  by  the  master,  gradually  to 
work  up  the  boy's  terrors  and  agonizing 
expectations  to  the  highest  pitch,  until  he 
should  yield  like  a  babe  to  the  intensity  of 
his  emotions.  His  stubborn  nature,  which 
had  been  like  an  oak  on  the  hills  which  no 
storm  could  prostrate,  was  whittled  away 
and  demolished,  as  it  were,  sliver  by  sliver. 
Not  Abijah  Wilkins  only,  but  the  whole 
school  were  subdued  to  the  most  humble 
and  habitual  obedience  by  the  scene  I  have 
described.  The  terror  of  it  seemed  to  abide 
in  their  hearts.  The  school  improved  much 
this  winter,  that  is,  according  to  the  ideas 
of  improvement  then  prevailing.  Lessons 
were  well  gotten,  and  well  said,  although 
the  why  and  the  wherefore  of  them  were  not 
asked  or  given. 

Mr.  Johnson  was  employed  the  next  win- 

11* 


126  THE    DISTKICT    SCHOOL 

ter  also,  and  it  was  the  prevailing  wish  that 
he  should  be  engaged  for  the  third  time; 
but  he  could  not  be  obtained.  His  reputa- 
tion as  a  teacher  had  secured  for  him  a 
school  at  twenty  dollars  per  month  for  the 
year  round,  in  a  distant  village ;  so  we  were 
never  more  to  sit  "  as  still  as  mice,"  in  his 
most  magisterial  presence.  For  years  the 
saying  in  the  district,  in  respect  to  him  was, 
"  He  was  the  best  master  I  ever  went  to ; 
he  kept  such  good  order,  and  punished  so 
little." 


AS    IT    WAS.  127 


CHAPTER    XV. 

GOING   OUT — MAKING  BOWS — BOYS   COMING  IN — 
GIRLS    GOING   OUT   AND    COMING   IN. 

The  young  are  proverbially  ignorant  of 
the  value  of  time.  There  is  one  portion  of 
it,  however,  which  they  well  know  how  to 
appreciate.  They  feel  it  to  be  a  wealth 
both  to  body  and  soul.  Its  few  moments 
are  truly  golden  ones,  forming  a  glittering 
spot  amid  the  drossy  dullness  of  in-school 
duration.  I  refer  to  the  forenoon  and  after- 
noon recess  for  "  going  out."  Consider  that 
we  came  from  all  the  freedom  of  the  farm, 
where  we  had  the  sweep  of  acres — hills, 
valleys,  woods,  and  waters,  and  were 
crowded,  I  may  say  packed,  into  the  dis- 
trict box.  Each  one  had  scarcely  more 
space  than  would  allow  him  to  shift  his  head 
from  an  inclination  to  one  shoulder  to  an 
inclination  to  the  other,  or  from  leaning  on 


128  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

the  right  elbow,  to  leaning  on  the  left. 
There  we  were,  the  blood  of  health  bounc- 
ing through  our  veins,  feeding  our  strength, 
swelling  our  dimensions ;  and  there  we 
must  stay,  three  hours  on  a  stretch,  with 
the  exception  of  the  afore-nientioned  recess. 
No  wonder  that  we  should  prize  this  brief 
period  high,  and  rush  tumultuously  out 
doors  to  enjoy  it. 

There  is  one  circumstance  in  going  out 
which  so  much  amuses  my  recollection,  that 
I  will  venture  to  describe  it  to  my  readers. 
It  is  the  making  of  our  bows,  or  manners, 
as  it  is  called.  If  one  wishes  to  see  variety 
in  the  doing  of  a  single  act,  let  him  look  at 
school-boys,  leaving  their  bows  at  the  door. 
Tell  me  not  of  the  diversities  and  character- 
istics, of  the  gentilities  and  the  awkward- 
nesses in  the  civility  of  shaking  hands.  The 
bow  is  as  diversified  and  characteristic,  as 
awkward  or  genteel,  as  any  movement 
many-motioned  man  is  called  on  to  make. 
Especially  in  a  country  school,  where  fash- 
ion and  politeness  have  not  altered  the 
tendencies  of  nature  by  forming  the  man- 


AS    IT    WAS.  129 

ners  of  all  after  one  model  of  propriety. 
Besides,  the  bow  was  before  the  shake,  both 
in  the  history  of  the  world,  and  in  that  of 
every  individual  man.  No  doubt  the  world's 
first  gentleman,  nature-taught,  declined  his 
head  in  some  sort,  in  saluting  for  the  first 
time  the  world's  first  lady,  in  primitive 
Eden.  And  no  doubt  every  little  boy  has 
been  instructed  to  make  a  "nice  bow," 
from  chubby  Cain,  Abel,  and  Seth,  down 
to  the  mannered  younglings  of  the  present 
day. 

Well,  then,  it  is  near  half-past  ten,  a.  m., 
but  seemingly  eleven  to  the  impatient 
youngsters  ;  anticipation  rather  than  reflec- 
tion, being  the  faculty  most  in  action  just 
now.  At  last  the  master  takes  out  his  watch, 
and  gives  a  hasty  glance  at  the  index  of 
of  the  hour.  Or,  if  this  premonitory  symp- 
tom does  not  appear,  watching  eyes  can 
discern  the  signs  of  the  time  in  the  face  re- 
laxing itself  from  severe  duty,  and  in  the 
moving  lips  just  assuming  that  precise  form 
necessary  to  pronounce  the  sentence  of  lib- 
eration.    Then,  make  ready,  take  aim,  is 


130  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

at  once  the  order  of  every  idler.  "The 
boys  may  go  out."  The  httle  white  heads 
on  the  Httle  seat,  as  it  is  called,  are  the 
foremost,  having  nothing  in  front  to  impede 
a  straight-forward  sally.  One  little  nimble- 
foot  is  at  the  door  in  an  instant;  and,  as 
he  lifts  the  latch,  he  tosses  off  a  bow  over 
his  left  shoulder,  and  is  out  in  a  twinkling. 
The  next  perhaps  squares  himself  towards 
the  master  with  more  precision,  not  having 
his  attention  divided  between  opening  the 
door  and  leaving  his  manners.  Next  comes 
the  very  least  of  the  little,  just  in  front  of 
the  big-boy  rush  behind  him,  tap-tapping 
and  tottering  along  the  floor,  with  his  finger 
in  his  nose  ;  but,  in  wheeling  from  his  bow, 
he  blunders  head  first  through  the  door,  in 
his  anxiety  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  the  im- 
pending throng  of  fists  and  knees  behind, 
in  avoiding  which  he  is  prostrated  under 
the  tramp  of  cowhide. 

Now  come  the  Bigs  from  behind  the  writ- 
ing benches.  Some  of  them  make  a  bow 
with  a  jerk  of  the  head  and  snap  of  the 
neck  possible  only  to  giddy-brained,   oily- 


AS    IT    WAS.  131 

jointed  boyhood.  Some,  whose  mothers 
are  of  the  precise  cast,  or  who  have  had 
their  manners  stiffened  at  a  dancing-school, 
will  wait  till  the  throng  is  a  little  thinned ; 
and  then  they  will  strut  out  with  their  arms 
as  straight  at  their  sides  as  if  there  were  no 
such  things  as  elbows,  and  will  let  their 
upper  person  bend  upon  the  middle  hinge, 
as  if  this  were  the  only  joint  in  their  frames. 
Some  look  straight  at  their  toes,  as  the  face 
descends  toward  the  floor.  Others  strain  a 
glance  up  at  the  master,  displaying  an  un- 
common proportion  of  that  beauty  of  the 
eye, — the  white.  Lastly  come  the  tenants 
of  the  extreme  back  seat,  the  Anaks  of  the 
school.  One  long-limbed,  lank-sided,  back- 
bending  fellow  of  twenty  is  at  the  door  at 
four  strides;  he  has  the  proper  curve  already 
prepared  by  his  ordinary  gait,  and  he  has 
nothing  to  do  but  swing  round  towards  the 
master,  and  his  manners  are  made.  Anoth- 
er, whose  body  is  developed  in  the  full  pro- 
pprtions  of  manhood,  turns  himself  half 
way,  and  just  gives  the  slightest  inclination 
of  the  person.     He  thinks  himself  too  much 


132  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

of  a  man  to  make  such  a  ridiculous  popping 
of  the  pate  as  the  younghngs  who  have 
preceded  him.  Another,  with  a  tread  that 
makes  the  floor  tremble,  goes  straight  out 
through  the  open  door,  without  turning  to 
the  right  or  left;  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  am 
quite  too  old  for  that  business." 

There  are  two  in  the  short  seat  at  the 
end  of  the  spelling  floor  who  have  almost 
attained  to  the  glorious,  or  rather  vain- 
glorious age  of  twenty-one.  They  are  per- 
haps even  more  aged  than  the  venerable 
Rabbi  of  the  school  himself.  So  they  respect 
their  years,  and  put  away  childish  things, 
inasmuch  as  they  do  not  go  out  as  their 
juniors  do.  One  of  them  slicks  to  his  slate. 
It  is  his  last  winter;  and,  as  he  did  not  catch 
flying  time  by  the  forelock,  he  must  cling  to 
his  heel.  The  other  unpuckers  his  arith- 
metical brow,  puts  his  pencil  between  his 
teeth,  leans  his  head  on  his  right  palm,  with 
his  left  fingers  adjusts  his  foretop,  and  then 
composes  himself  into  an  amiable  gaze  upon 
the  fair  remainder  of  the  school.  Perhaps 
his  eyes  leap  at  once   to  that  damsel  of 


AS    IT    WAS.  133 

eighteen  in  the  furthermost  seat,  who  is  the 
secret  mistress  of  his  heart. 

How  still  it  is  in  the  absence  of  half  the 
limbs  and  lips  of  the  domain  !  That  little 
girl  who  has  been  buzzing  round  her  lesson 
like  a  bee  round  a  honey-suckle,  off  and  on 
by  turns,  is  now  sipping  its  sweets,  if  any 
sweets  there  be,  as  closely  and  stilly  as  that 
same  bee  plunged  in  the  bell  of  the  flower. 
The  secret  of  the  unwonted  silence  is,  the 
master  knows  on  which  side  of  the  aisle  to 
look  for  noise  and  mischief  now. 

It  is  time  for  the  boys  to  come  in.  The 
master  raps  on  the  window  as  a  signal.  At 
first  they  scatter  in  one  by  one,  keeping  the 
door  on  the  slam,  slam.  But  soon,  in 
rush  the  main  body,  pell-mell,  rubbing  their 
ears,  kicking  their  heels,  puffing,  panting, 
wheezing.  Impelled  by  the  temporary  chill, 
they  crowd  round  the  fire,  regaining  the 
needed  warmth  as  much  by  the  exercise  of 
elbows  as  by  the  heat  of  fuel.  "  Take  your 
seats,  you  that  have  got  warm,"  says  the 
master.  No  one  starts.  "Take  your  seats, 
ail  of  you."     Tramp,  tramp,  how  the  floor 

12 


134  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

trembles  again,  and  the  seats  clatter.  There 
goes  an  mk-stand.  Ben  phiches  Tom  to  let 
^im  know  that  he  must  go  in  first.  Tom 
stands  back ;  but  gives  Ben  a  kick  on  the 
shins  as  he  passes,  to  pay  for  that  pinch. 

"  The  girls  may  go  out."  The  noise  and 
confusion  are  now  of  the  feminine  gender. 
Trip,  trip,  rustle,  rustle.  Shall  I  describe 
the  diversities  of  the  courtesy?  I  could  pen 
a  trait  or  two,  but  prefer  to  leave  the  sub- 
ject to  the  more  discriminating  quill  of  the 
courtesying  sex.  The  shrill  tones  and  gos- 
siping chatter  of  girlhood  now  ring  from 
without.  But  they  do  not  stay  long.  Trip, 
trip,  rustle,  rustle,  back  again.  Half  of 
them  are  sucking  a  lump  of  snow  for  drink. 
One  has  broken  an  icicle  from  the  well- 
spout,  and  is  nibbling  it  as  she  would  a 
slick  of  candy.  See  Sarah  jump.  The  ice- 
eater's  cold,  dripping  hand  has  mischiev- 
ously sprinkled  her  neck.  Down  goes  the 
melting  little  cone,  and  is  scattered  in  shiv- 
ers. "Take  your  seats,"  says  authority 
with  soft  command.  He  is  immediately 
obeyed;  and  the  dull  routine  rolls  on  to- 
ward noon. 


AS    IT    WAS.  135 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

NOON NOISE    AND    DINNER SPORTS    AT    SCHOOL 

COASTING SNOW-BALLING A       CERTAIN 

MEMORABLE    SNOW-BALL    BATTLE. 

Noon  has  come.  It  is  even  half-past  twelve; 
for  the  teacher  got  puzzled  with  a  hard 
sum,  and  did  not  attend  to  the  second  read- 
ing of  the  first  class  so  soon  as  usual  by 
half  an  hour.  It  has  been  hitch,  hitch — •* 
joggle,  joggle — creak,  creak,  all  over  the 
school-room  for  a  considerable  time.  "You 
are  dismissed,"  comes  at  last.  The  going 
out  of  half  the  school  only  was  a  noisy 
business;  but  now  there  is  a  tenfold  thun- 
der, augmented  by  the  windy  rush  of  many 
petticoats.  All  the  voices  of  all  the  tongues 
now  split  or  rather  shatter  the  air,  if  I  may 
so  speak.  There  are  more  various  tones 
than  could  be  indicated  by  all  the  epithets 
ever  applied  to  sound. 


136  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

The  first  manual  operation  is  the  extract- 
ing of  certain  parcels  from  pockets,  bags, 
baskets,  hat-crowns,  and  perhaps  the  capa- 
cious cavity  formed  by  the  tie  of  a  short 
open  frock.  Then  what  a  savory  develop- 
ment,— bread,  cheese,  cakes,  pies,  sausages, 
and  apples  without  number!  It  is  voice 
versus  appetite  now  for  the  occupancy  of 
the  mouth.  Or,  to  speak  less  lawyer-like 
and  more  popularly,  they  have  a  jaw  to- 
gether. 

The  case  is  soon  decided,  that  is,  dinner 
is  dispatched.  Then  commences  what,  in 
view  of  most  of  us,  is  the  chief  business  of 
the  day.  Before  describing  this,  however, 
I  would  premise  a  little.  The  principal 
allurement  and  prime  happiness  of  going  to 
school,  as  it  used  to  be  conducted,  was  the 
opportunity  it  afforded  for  social  amuse- 
ment. Our  rural  abodes  were  scattered 
generally  a  half  or  a  quarter  of  a  mile  apart, 
and  the  young  could  not  see  each  other 
every  day  as  conveniently  as  they  can  in  a 
city  or  a  village.  The  schooling  season 
was  therefore  looked  forward  to  as  one  long 


AS    IT    WAS.  137 

series  of  holidays,  or,  as  Mark  Martin  once 
said,  as  so  many  thanksgiving  days,  except 
the  music,  the  sermon,  and  the  dinner.  Mark 
Martin,  let  me  mention  by  the  way,  was  the 
wit  of  the  school.  Some  of  his  sayings, 
that  made  us  laugh  at  the  time,  I  shall  here- 
after put  down.  They  may  not  affect  the 
reader,  however,  as  they  did  us,  for  tlie 
lack  of  his  peculiar  manner  which  set  them 
off.  "What  a  droll  fellow  Mark  Martin 
is  !"  used  to  be  the  frequent  expression. 

Should  I  describe  all  the  pastimes  of  the 
winter  school,  it  would  require  more  space 
than  befits  my  plan.  I  shall  therefore  touch 
only  on  one  or  two  of  the  different  kinds  of 
out-door  frolic,  such  only  as  are  peculiar  to 
winter,  and  give  a  particular  zest  to  the 
schooling  season. 

Of  all  the  sportive  exercises  of  the  winter 
school,  the  most  exhilarating,  indeed  in- 
tensely delightful,  was  sliding  down  hill^or 
coasting,  as  it  is  called.  Not  having  the 
privilege  of  this,  excepting  in  the  snowy 
season,  and  then  with  frequent  interrup- 
tions, it  was  far  more  highly  prized.     The 

12» 


138  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

location  of  our  school  was  uncommonly 
favorable  for  this  diversion.  Situated  as  we 
were  on  a  hill,  we  could  go  down  like  arrows 
for  the  eighth  of  a  mile  on  one  side,  and  half 
that  distance  on  the  other.  Almost  every 
boy  had  his  sled.  Some  of  us  got  our  names 
branded  on  the  vehicle,  and  prided  ourselves 
in  the  workmanship  or  the  swiftness  of  it, 
as  mariners  do  in  that  of  a  ship.  We  used 
to  personify  the  dear  little  speeder  with  a 
she  and  a  her,  seaman-like  also.  Take  it 
when  a  few  days  of  severely  cold  and  clear 
weather  have  permitted  the  road  to  be  worn 
icy  smooth,  and  the  careering  little  coaster 
is  the  most  enviable  pleasure-rider  that  was 
ever  eager  to  set  out  or  sorry  to  stop.  The 
very  tugging  up  hill  back  again,  is  not  with- 
out its  pleasure.  The  change  of  posture  is 
agreeable,  and  also  the  stir  of  limb  and 
stretch  of  muscle  for  the  short  time  required 
to  return  to  the  starting  place.  Then  there 
is  the  looking  forward  to  the  glorious  down- 
hill again.  In  all  the  pleasures  of  human 
experience,  there  is  nothing  like  coasting, 


AS    IT    WAS.  13& 

for  the  regular  alternation  of  glowing  an- 
ticipation and  frame-thrilling  enjoyment. 

Had  there  been  a  mill-pond  or  any  other 
sufficient  expanse  of  water  near  the  old 
school-house,  I  should  probably  now  pen  a 
paragraph  on  the  delights  of  skating;  but 
as  there  was  not,  and  this  was  not  therefore 
one  of  our  school-sports,  such  a  description 
would  not  properly  belong  to  these  annals. 

But  there  is  another  pastime  which  comes 
only  with  the  winter,  and  is  enjoyed  mostly 
at  school,  to  which  I  will  devote  a  few 
pages.  It  is  the  chivalrous  pastime  of  snow- 
bailing.  Take,  for  instance,  the  earliest 
snow  of  winter,  falling  gently  and  stilly 
with  its  feathery  flakes,  of  just  the  right 
moisture  for  easy  manipulation.  Or  when 
the  drifts  soften  in  the  mid-winter  thaw,  or 
begin  to  settle  beneath  the  lengthened  and 
sunny  days  of  March,  then  is  the  season 
for  the  power  and  glory  of  a  snow-ball  fight. 
The  whole  school  of  the  martial  sex  are 
out  of  a  noon-time,  from  the  veterans  of  a 
hundred  battles  down  almost  to  the  freshest 
recruits  of  the  little  front  seat.    Half  against 


140  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

half,  unless  a  certain  number  agree  to 
"take"  all  the  rest.  The  oldest  are  opposed 
to  the  oldest  in  the  hostile  array,  so  that 
the  little  round,  and  perhaps  hard,  missile 
may  not  be  out  of  proportion  to  the  age, 
size,  and  toughness  of  the  antagonist  likely 
to  be  hit.  The  little  boys,  of  course,  against 
the  little,  with  this  advantage,  that  their 
discharges  lose  most  of  their  force  before 
reaching  the  object  aimed  at.  When  one  is 
hit,  he  is  not  merely  wounded ;  he  is  a  dead 
man  as  to  this  battle.  Here,  no  quarter  is 
asked  or  given.  The  balls  whistle,  the  men 
fall,  until  all  are  defunct  but  one  or  two 
individuals,  who  remain  unkilled  because 
there  is  no  enemy  left  to  hurl  the  fatal  ball. 

But  our  conflicts  were  not  always  make- 
believes,  and  conducted  according  to  the 
formal  rules  of  play :  these  sham-fights 
sometimes  waxed  into  the  very  reality  of 
war. 

The  school  was  about  equally  divided 
between  the  East  and  the  West  ends  of  the 
district.  There  had,  from  time  immemorial, 
come  down  a  rivalry  between  the  two  par- 


AS    IT    WAS.  141 

ties  in  respect  to  physical  activity  and 
strength.  At  the  close  of  the  school  in  the 
afternoon,  and  at  the  parting  of  the  scholars 
on  their  different  ways  toward  home,  there 
were  almost  always  a  few  farewells  in  the 
form  of  a  sudden  trip-up,  a  dab  of  snow,  or 
an  icy-ball  almost  as  tenderly  soft  and 
agreeable  of  contact  as  that  mellow  thing — 
a  stone.  These  valedictories  were  as  courte- 
ously reciprocated  from  the  other  side. 

These  slight  skirmishes  would  sometimes 
grow  into  a  general  battle,  when  the  arm 
was  not  careful  to  proportion  the  force  just 
so  as  to  touch  and  no  more,  as  in  a  noon- 
day game. 

One  battle  I  recollect,  which  is  worthy 
of  being  commemorated  in  a  book,  at  least 
a  book  about  boyhood,  like  this.  It  is  as 
fresh  before  my  mind's  eye  as  if  it  were  but 
3''esterday.  To  swell  somewhat  into  the 
pompous,  glorious  Waterloo  could  not  be 
remembered  by  its  surviving  heroes  with 
greater  tenacity  or  distinctness. 

It  had  gently  but  steadily  snowed  all  one 
December  night,    and  almost  all  the  next 


142  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

day.  Owing  to  the  weather,  there  were  no 
girls  excepting  Captain  Clark's  two,  and  no 
very  small  boys,  at  school.  The  scholars 
had  been  unusually  playful  through  the 
day,  and  had  taken  liberties  which  would 
not  have  been  tolerated  in  the  full  school. 

When  we  were  dismissed  at  night,  the 
snow  had  done  falling,  and  the  ammunition 
of  just  the  right  moisture  lay  in  exhaustless 
abundance  on  the  ground,  all  as  level  as  a 
floor;  for  there  had  been  no  wind  to  distri- 
bute unequally  the  gifts  of  the  impartial 
clouds.  The  first  boy  that  sprang  from  the 
threshold  caught  up  a  quart  of  the  spotless 
but  viscid  material,  and  whitewashed  the 
face  of  the  next  one  at  the  door,  who  hap- 
pened to  belong  to  the  rival  side.  This 
was  a  signal  for  general  action.  As  fast  as 
the  troops  poured  out,  they  rushed  to  the 
conflict.  We  had  not  the  coolness  deliber- 
ately to  arrange  ourselves  in  battle  order, 
line  against  line ;  but  each  aimed  at  each  as 
he  could,  no  matter  whom,  how,  or  where, 
provided  that  he  belonged  to  the  "  other 
End."     We  did  not  round  the  snow  into 


AS    IT    WAS.  143 

shape,  but  hurled  and  dashed  it  in  large 
masses,  as  we  happened  to  snatch  or  scoop 
it  up.  As  the  combatants  in  gunpowder 
war  are  hidden  from  each  other  by  clouds 
of  their  own  raising,  so  also  our  warriors 
clouded  themselves  from  sight.  And  there 
were  other  obstacles  to  vision  besides  the 
discharges  in  the  air;  for  one  or  both  the 
eyes  of  us  all  were  glued  up  and  sealed  in 
darkness  by  the  damp,  sticky  matter.  The 
nasal  and  auditory  cavities  too  were  tem- 
porarily closed.  And  here  and  there  a 
mouth,  opening  after  a  little  breath,  received 
the  same  snowy  visitation. 

At  length,  from  putting  snow  into  each 
other,  we  took  to  putting  each  other  into 
the  snow.  Not  by  the  formal  and  deliber- 
ate wrestle,  but  pell-mell,  hurly-burly,  as 
foot,  hand,  or  head  could  find  an  advantage. 
The  combatants  were  covered  with  the 
clinging  element.  It  was  as  if  their  woollen 
habiliments  had  turned  back  to  their  origi- 
nal white.  So  completely  were  we  all  be- 
smeared by  the  same  material,  that  we  could 
not  tell  friend  from  foe  in  the  blind  encoun- 


144  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

ter.  No  matter  for  this;  we  were  now 
crazed  with  fun;  and  we  were  ready  to 
carry  it  to  the  utmost  extent  that  time  and 
space  and  snow  would  admit.  Just  oppo- 
site the  school-house  door,  the  hill  descend- 
ed very  steeply  from  the  road  for  about  ten 
rods.  The  stone  wall  just  here  was  quite 
low,  and  completely  covered  with  snow 
even  before  this  last  fall.  The  two  stoutest 
champions  of  the  fray  had  been  snowing  it 
into  each  other  like  storm-spirits  from  the 
two  opposite  poles.  At  length,  as  if  their 
snow-bolts  were  exhausted,  they  seized 
each  other  for  the  tug  of  muscle  with  muscle. 
They  had  unconsciously  worked  themselves 
to  the  precipitous  brink.  Another  stout 
fellow  caught  a  glimpse  of  their  position, 
gave  a  rush  and  a  push,  and  both  Arctic 
and  Antarctic  went  tumbling  heels  hind- 
most down  the  steep  declivity,  until  they 
were  stopped  by  the  new-fallen  snow  in 
which  they  were  completly  buried ;  and 
one  with  his  nose  downward  as  if  he  had 
voluntarily  dived  into  his  own  grave.  This 
was  a  signal  for  a  general  push-off,  and  the 


AS    IT    WAS.-  145 

performer  of  the  sudden  exploit  was  the 
first  to  be  gathered  to  his  victims  below.  In 
five  minutes,  all  were  in  the  same  predica- 
ment but  one,  who,  not  finding  himself 
attacked,  wiped  the  plaster  from  his  eyes, 
and  saw  himself  the  lone  hero  of  the  field. 
He  gave  a  victorious  shout;  then,  not  liking 
solitude  for  a  playmate,  he  made  a  daunt- 
less leap  after  the  rest,  who  were  now  thick- 
ly rising  from  their  snowy  burial  to  life, 
action,  and  fun  anew.  Now  the  game  is  to 
put  each  other  down,  down,  to  the  bottom 
of  the  hill.  There  is  pulling,  pushing,  pitch-  ' 
ing,  and  whirling,  every  species  of  manual 
attack,  except  the  pugilistic  thump  and 
knock-down.  One  long  lubber  has  fallen 
exactly  parallel  with  the  bottom  ;  and,  be- 
fore he  can  recover  himself,  two  others  are 
rolling  him  down  like  a  senseless  log,  until 
the  lumberers  themselves  are  pitched  head 
first  over  their  timber  by  other  hands  still 
behind  them.  But  at  length  we  are  all  at 
the  bottom  of  the  hill,  and  indeed  at  the 
bottom  of  our  strength.  Which  End,  the 
East  or  the  West,  had  the  day,  could  not 

13 


146  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

be  determined.  In  one  sense  it  belonged  to 
neither,  for  it  was  night.  We  newfound 
ourselves  in  a  plight  not  particularly  com- 
fortable to  ourselves,  nor  likely  to  be  very 
agreeable  to  the  domestic  guardians  we 
must  now  meet.  But  the  battle  has  been 
described,  and  that  is  enough  :  there  is  no 
glory  in  the  suffering  that  succeeds. 


AS    IT    WAS.  147 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

ARITHMETIC COMMENCEMENT PROGRESS  — 

LATE  IMPROVEMENT    IN    THE    ART    OF   TEACH- 
ING IT. 

At  the  age  of  twelve,  I  commenced  the 
study  of  Arithmetic,  that  chiefestof  sciences 
in  Yankee  estimation.  No  man  is  willing 
that  his  son  should  be  without  skill  in  fig- 
ures. And  if  he  does  not  teach  him  his  A 
B  C  at  home,  he  will  the  art  of  counting, 
at  least.  Many  a  father  deems  it  no  hard- 
ship to  instruct  his  child  to  enumerate  even 
up  to  a  hundred,  when  it  would  seem  be- 
yond his  capacity,  or  certainly  beyond  the 
leisure  of  his  rainy  days  and  winter  even- 
ings, to  sit  down  with  the  formality  of  a 
book,  and  teach  him  to  read. 

The  entering  on  arithmetic  was  quite  an 
era  in  my  school-boy  life.  This  was  plac- 
ing me  decidedly  among  the   great  boys, 


148  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

and  within  hailing  distance  of  manhood. 
My  feelings  were  consequently  considera- 
bly elevated.  A  new  Adams's  Arithmetic 
of  the  latest  edition  was  bought  for  my  use. 
It  was  covered  by  the  maternal  hand  with 
stout  sheep-skin,  in  the  economical  expecta- 
tion, that,  after  I  had  done  with  it,  it  might 
help  still  younger  heads  to  the  golden  sci- 
ence. A  quire  of  foolscap  was  made  to 
take  the  form  of  a  manuscript  of  the  full 
length  of  the  sheet,  with  a  pasteboard 
cover,  as  more  suitable  to  the  dignity  of 
such  superior  dimensions  than  flimsy  brown 
paper. 

I  had  also  a  bran  new  slate,  for  Ben  used 
father's  old  one.  It  was  set  in  a  frame 
wrought  by  the  aforesaid  Ben,  who  prided 
himself  on  his  knack  at  tools,  considering 
that  he  had  never  served  an  apprenticeship 
at  their  use.  There  was  no  lack  of  timber 
in  the  fabrication.  Mark  Martin  said  that 
he  could  make  a  better  frame  with  a  jack- 
knife  in  his  left  hand,  and  keep  his  right  in 
his  pocket. 

My  first  exercise  was  transcribing  from 


AS    IT    WAS.  149 

my  Arithmetic  to  my  manuscript.  At  the 
top  of  the  first  page  I  penned  ARITHME- 
TIC, in  capitals  an  inch  high,  and  so  broad 
that  this  one  word  reached  entirely  across 
the  page.  At  a  due  distance  below,  I  wrote 
the  word  Addition  in  large,  coarse  hand, 
beginning  with  a  lofty  A,  which  seemed 
like  the  drawing  of  a  mountain  peak,  tow- 
ering above  the  level  wilderness  below. 
Then  came  Rule^  in  a  little  smaller  hand, 
so  that  there  was  a  regular  gradation  from 
the  enormous  capitals  at  the  top,  down  to 
the  fine  running — no,  hobbling  hand  in 
which  1  wrote  off  the  rule. 

Now  slate  and  pencil  and  brain  came 
into  use.  I  met  with  no  difficulty  at  first; 
Simple  Addition  was  as  easy  as  counting 
my  fingers.  But  there  was  one  thing  I 
could  not  understand — that  carrying  of 
tens.  It  was  absolutely  necessary,  I  per- 
ceived, in  order  to  get  the  right  answer; 
yet  it  was  a  mystery  which  that  arithmeti- 
cal oracle,  our  schoolmaster,  did  not  see  fit 
to  explain.  It  is  possible  that  it  was  a 
mystery  to  him.     Then  came  Subtraction. 

13* 


150  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

The  borrowing  of  ten  was  another  unac- 
countable operation.  The  reason  seemed 
to  me  then  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  well 
of  science ;  and  there  it  remained  for  that 
winter,  for  no  friendly  bucket  brought  it 
up  to  my  reach. 

Every  rule  was  transcribed  to  my  manu- 
script, and  each  sum  likewise  as  it  stood 
proposed  in  the  book,  and  also  the  whole 
process  of  figures  by  which  the  answer  was 
found. 

Each  rule,  moreover,  was,  or  rather  was 
to  be,  committed  to  memory,  word  for 
word,  which  to  me  was  the  most  tedious 
and  difficult  job  of  the  whole. 

I  advanced  as  far  as  Reduction  this  first 
winter,  and  a  third  through  my  manuscript, 
perhaps.  The  end  of  the  Arithmetic 
seemed  almost  as  far  off  in  the  future  as 
that  end  of  boyhood  and  under-age  re- 
straint, twenty-one. 

The  next  winter  I  began  at  Addition 
again,  to  advance  just  through  Interest. 
My  third  season  I  went  o\^er  the  same 
ground  again,  and,  besides  that,  ciphered 


AS    IT    WAS.  151 

to  the  very  last  sum  in  the  Rule  of  Three. 
This  was  deemed  quite  an  achievement  for 
a  lad  only  fourteen  years  old,  according  to 
the  ideas  prevailing  at  that  period.  Indeed 
I  was  now  fitted  to  figure  on  and  fill  up 
the  blank  pages  of  manhood,  to  solve  the 
hard  question  how  much  money  I  should 
be  worth  in  the  course  of  years.  In  plain 
language,  whoever  ciphered  through  the 
above-mentioned  rule  was  supposed  to  have 
arithmetic  enough  for  the  common  pur- 
poses of  life.  If  one  proceeded  a  few  rules 
beyond  this,  he  was  considered  quite  smart. 
But  if  he  went  clear  through — Miscellane- 
ous Questions  and  all — he  was  thought  to 
have  an  extraordinary  taste  and  genius  for 
figures.  Now  and  then,  a  youth,  after  hav- 
ing been  through  Adams,  entered  upon  old 
Pike,  the  arithmetical  sage  who  "set  the 
suras"  for  the  preceding  generation.  Such 
were  called  great  "arithmeticians." 

The  fourth  winter  I  advanced — but  it  is 
not  important  to  the  purpose  of  this  work 
that  I  should  record  the  minutiae  of  my 
progress  in  the  science  of  numbers.    Suffice 


152  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

it  to  say,  that  I  was  not  one  of  the  "  great 
at  figures." 

The  female  portion  of  the  school,  we 
may  suppose,  generally  expected  to  obtain 
husbands  to  perform  whatever  arithmetical 
operations  they  might  need,  beyond  the 
counting  of  fingers :  so  the  science  found  no 
special  favor  with  them.  If  pursued  at  all, 
it  was  neglected  till  the  last  year  or  two  of 
their  schooling.  Most  were  provident 
enough  to  cipher  as  far  as  through  the  four 
simple  rules;  for  although  they  had  no  idea 
of  becoming  old  maids,  they  might  possi- 
bly, however,  be  left  widows.  Had  arith- 
metic been  pursued  at  the  summer  school, 
those  who  intended  to  be  sumnier  teachers 
would  probably  have  thought  more  of  the 
science,  and  have  proceeded  further,  even 
perhaps  to  the  Rule  of  Three.  But  a 
schoolmistress  would  as  soon  have  ex- 
pected to  teach  the  Arabic  language  as  the 
numerical  science.  So,  ignorance  of  it  was 
no  dishonor  even  to  the  first  and  best  of  the 
sex. 

But  what  a  change  have  the  last  few 


AS    IT     WAS.  153 

years  produced  in  respect  to  this  subject ! 
Honor  and  gratitude  be  to  Pestalozzi ; 
thanks  be  to  our  countrymen,  Colburn, 
Emerson,  and  others,  for  making  what  was 
the  hardest  and  driest  of  studies,  one  of  the 
easiest  and  most  interesting.  They  have 
at  length  tackled  the  intellectual  team 
aright;  have  put  the  carriage  behind  the 
carrier  ;  pshaw  I  this  over-refinement  spoils 
the  illustration — the  cart  behind  the  horse, 
where  it  ought  always  to  have  been.  For- 
merly, memory,  the  mind's  baggage-wagon 
— to  change  the  word,  but  continue  the  fig- 
ure— was  loaded  with  rules,  rules,  words, 
words,  to  top-heaviness,  and  sent  lumber- 
ing along  ;  while  the  understanding,  which 
should  have  been  the  living  and  spirited 
mover  of  the  vehicle,  was  kept  ill-fed  and 
lean,  and  put  loosely  behind,  to  push  after 
as  it  could. 


154  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

AUGUSTUS  STARR,  THE  PRIVATEER  WHO  TURNED 
PEDAGOGUE — HIS  NEW  CREW  MUTINY,  AND 
PERFORM  A  SINGULAR  EXPLOIT. 

My  tenth  winter,  our  school  was  put 
under  the  instruction  of  a  person  named 
Augustus  Starr.  He  was  a  native  of  a 
neighboring  town,  and  had  before  been  ac- 
quainted with  the  committee.  He  had 
taught  school  some  years  before,  but,  for 
the  last  few  years,  had  been  engaged  in  a 
business  not  particularly  conducive  to  im- 
provement in  the  art  of  teaching.  He  had 
been  an  inferior  officer  aboard  a  privateer 
in  the  late  war,  which  terminated  only  the 
winter  before.  At  the  return  of  peace,  he 
betook  himself  to  land  again ;  and,  till 
something  more  suitable  to  his  tastes  and 
habits  should  offer,  he  concluded  to  resume 


AS    IT    WAS.  155 

school-keeping,  at  least  for  one  winter. 
He  came  to  our  town  ;  and,  finding  an  old 
acquaintance  seeking  for  a  teacher,  he  of- 
fered himself,  and  was  accepted.  He  was 
rather  genteelly  dressed,  and  gentlemanly 
in  his  manners. 

Mr.  Starr  soon  manifested  that  stern 
command,  rather  than  mild  persuasion, 
had  been  his  method  of  preserving  order, 
and  was  to  be,  still.  This  would  have  been 
put  up  with ;  but  he  soon  showed  that  he 
could  deal  in  blows  as  well  as  words,  and 
these  not  merely  with  the  customary  ferule, 
or  supple  and  tingling  stick,  but  with  what- 
ever came  to  hand.  He  knocked  one  lad 
down  with  his  fist,  hurled  a  stick  of  wood 
at  another,  which  missed  breaking  his  head 
because  it  struck  the  ceiling,  making  a  dent 
which  fearfully  indicated  what  would  have 
been  the  consequence  had  the  skull  been 
hit.  The  scholars  were  terrified,  parents 
were  alarmed,  and  some  kept  their  younger 
children  at  home.  There  was  an  uproar  in 
the  district.     A  school-meeting  was  threat- 


166  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

ened  for  the  purpose  of  dismissing  the  cap- 
tain, as  he  began  to  be  called,  in  reference 
to  the  station  he  had  lately  filled,  although 
it  was  not  a  captaincy.  But  he  commanded 
the  school-house  crew :  so,  in  speaking  of 
him,  they  gave  him  a  corresponding  title. 
In  consequence  of  these  indications,  our  of- 
ficer became  less  dangerous  in  his  modes  of 
punishment,  and  was  permitted  to  continue 
still  in  command.  But  he  was  terribly  se- 
vere, nevertheless;  and  in  his  words  of 
menace,  he  manifested  no  particular  respect 
for  that  one  of  the  ten  commandments 
which  forbids  profanity.  But  he  took  pains 
with  his  pupils,  and  they  made  considerable 
progress  according  to  the  prevailing  notions 
of  education. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  school,  however, 
Starr's  fractious  temper,  his  cuffs,  thumps, 
and  cudgelings,  waxed  dangerous  again. 
There  were  signs  of  mutiny  among  the 
large  scholars,  and  there  were  provocations 
and  loud  talk  among  parents.  The  man  of 
violence,  even  at   this   late   period,  would 


AS    IT    WAS.  157 

have  been  dismissed  by  the  authority  of  the 
district,  had  not  a  sudden  and  less  formal 
ejection  overtaken  him. 

The  captain  had  been  outrageously  se- 
vere, and  even  cruel,  to  some  of  the  smaller 
boys.  The  older  brothers  of  the  sufferers, 
with  others  of  the  back  seat,  declared 
among  themselves,  that  they  would  put 
him  by  force  out  of  the  school-house,  if  any 
thing  of  the  like  should  happen  again. 
The  very  afternoon  succeeding  this  resolu- 
tion, an  opportunity  offered  to  put  it  to  the 
test.  John  Howe,  for  some  trifling  misde- 
meanor, received  a  cut  with  the  edge  of  the 
ruler  on  his  head,  which  drew  blood.  The 
dripping  wound  and  the  scream  of  the  boy 
were  a  signal  for  action,  as  if  a  murderer 
were  at  his  fell  deed  before  their  eyes. 
Thomas  Howe,  one  of  the  oldest  in  the 
school  and  the  brother  of  the  abused,  and 
Mark  Martin,  were  at  the  side  of  our  pri- 
vateer in  an  instant.  Two  others  followed. 
His  ruler  was  wrested  from  his  hand,  and 
he  was  seized  by  his  legs  and  shoulders, 


158  THE    DISTRICT     SCHOOL 

before  he  could  scarcely  think  into  what 
hands  he  had  fallen.  He  was  carried, 
kicking  and  swearing,  out  of  doors.  But 
this  was  not  the  end  of  his  headlong  and 
horizontal  career.  "  To  the  side-hill,  to  the 
side-hill,"  cried  Mark,  who  had  him  by  the 
head.  Now  it  so  happened  that  the  liill- 
side  opposite  the  school-house  door  was 
crusted,  and  as  smooth  and  slippery  as 
pure  ice,  from  a  recent  rain.  To  this  pitch, 
then,  he  was  borne,  and  in  all  the  haste 
that  his  violent  struggles  would  permit. 
Over  he  was  thrust,  as  if  he  were  a  log  ; 
and  down  he  went,  giving  one  of  his  bear- 
ers a  kick  as  he  was  shoved  from  their 
hands,  which  action  of  the  foot  sent  him 
more  swiftly  on  his  way  from  the  rebound. 
There  was  no  bush  or  stone  to  catch  by  in 
his  descent,  and  he  clawed  the  unyielding 
crust  with  his  nails,  for  the  want  of  any 
thing  more  prominent  on  which  to  lay  hold. 
Down,  down  he  went.  Oh  for  a  pile  of 
stones  or  a  thicket  of  thorns  to  cling  to, 
even  at  the   expense  of  torn   apparel  or 


AS    IT    WAS.  159 

scratched  fingers !  Down,  down  he  went, 
until  he  fairly  came  to  the  climax,  or  rather 
anti-climax,  of  his  pedagogical  career. — 
Mark  Martin,  who  retained  singular  self- 
possession,  cried  out,  "  There  goes  a  shoot- 
ing starJ^ 

When  our  master  had  come  to  a  "  period 
or  full  stop,"  to  quote  from  the  spelling- 
book,  he  lay  a  moment  as  if  he  had  left  his 
breath  behind  him,  or  as  if  querying  wheth- 
er he  should  consider  himself  alive  or  not ; 
or  perhaps  whether  it  were  really  his  own 
honorable  self  who  had  been  voyaging  in 
this  unseamanlike  fashion,  or  somebody 
else.  Perhaps  he  was  at  a  loss  for  the 
points  of  compass,  as  is  often  the  case  in 
tumbles  and  topsy-turvies.  He  at  length 
arose  and  stood  upright,  facing  the  ship  of 
literature  which  he  had  lately  commanded ; 
and  his  mutinous  crew,  great  and  small, 
male  and  female,  now  lining  the  side  of  the 
road  next  to  the  declivity,  from  which  most 
of  them  had  witnessed  his  expedition.  The 
movement  had   been   so   sudden,  and  the 


160  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

ejection  so  unanticipated  by  the  school  in 
general,  that  they  were  stupefied  with 
amazement.  And  the  bold  performers  of 
the  exploit  were  almost  as  much  amazed 
as  the  rest,  excepting  Mark,  who  still  re- 
tained coolness  enough  for  his  joke.  "What 
think  of  the  coasting  trade,  captain?" 
shouted  Mark ;  "  is  it  as  profitable  as  pri- 
vateering?" Our  coaster  made  no  reply, 
but  turned  in  pursuit  of  a  convenient  foot- 
ing to  get  up  into  the  road,  and  to  the 
school-house  again.  While  he  was  at  a 
distance  approaching  his  late  station  of 
command,  Mark  Martin  stepped  forward  to 
hold  a  parley  with  him.  "  We  have  a 
word  to  say  to  you,  sir,  before  you  come 
much  farther.  If  you  will  come  back 
peaceably,  you  may  come ;  but,  as  sure  as 
you  meddle  with  any  of  us,  we  will  make 
you  acquainted  with  the  heft  and  fhe  hard- 
ness of  our  fists,  and  of  stones  and  clubs 
too,  if  we  must.  The  ship  is  no  longer 
yours ;  so  look  out,  for  we  are  our  own  men 
now."     Starr  replied,  *'  1  do  not  wish   to 


AS    IT    WAS.  161 

have  any  thing  more  to  do  with  the  school; 
but  there  is  another  law  besides  club  law, 
and  that  you  have  got  to  take."  But  when 
he  came  up  and  saw  John  Howe's  face 
stained  with  blood,  and  his  head  bound  up 
as  if  it  had  received  the  stroke  of  a  cutlass, 
he  began  to  look  rather  blank.  Our  spokes- 
man reminded  him  of  what  he  had  done, 
and  inquired  "  which  was  the  worst,  a  ride 
and  a  slide,  or  a  gashed  head  7"  "  I  rather 
guess  that  you  are  the  one  to  look  out  for 
the  law,"  said  Thomas  Howe,  with  a 
threatening  tone  and  look.  Whether  this 
hint  had  effect,  I  know  not,  but  he  never 
commenced  a  prosecution.  He  gathered 
up  his  goods  and  chattels,  and  left  the 
school-house.  The  scholars  gathered  up 
their  implements  of  learning,  and  left  like^ 
wise,  after  the  boys  had  taken  one  more 
glorious  slide  down  hill. 

There  were  both  gladness  and  regret  in 
that  dispersion; — gladness  that  they  had  no 
more  broken  heads,  shattered  hands,  and 
skinned  backs  to  fear ;  and  regret  that  the 

14*     . 


162  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

season  of  schooling,  and  of  social  and  de- 
lightful play,  had  been  cut  short  by  a  week. 
The  news  reached  most  of  the  district  in 
the  course  of  the  next  day,  that  our  "  man 
of  war,"  as  he  was  sometimes  called,  had 
sailed  out  of  port  the  night  before. 


AS    IT   WAS.  163 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

ELEVENTH   WINTER — MR.  SILVERSON,  OUR    FIRST 

TEACHER    FROM     COLLEGE HIS     BLUNDER    AT 

MEETING   ON    THE    SABBATH — HIS    CHARACTER 
AS  A  SCHOOLMASTER. 

This  winter,  Major  Allen  was  the  com- 
mittee; and  of  course,  every  body  expected 
a  dear  master,  if  not  a  good  one ;  he  had 
always  expressed  himself  so  decidedly 
against  "your  cheap  trash."  They  were 
not  disappointed.  They  had  a  dear  mas- 
ter, high  priced  and  not  much  worth.  Ma- 
jor Allen  sent  to  college  for  an  instructor, 
as  a  young  gentleman  from  such  an  institu- 
tion must  of  course  be  qualified  as  to  learn- 
ing, and  would  give  a  higher  tone  to  the 
school.  He  had  good  reason  for  the  expec- 
tation, as  a  gentleman  from  the  same  insti- 
tution had  taught  the  two  preceding  win- 


164  THE    DISTRICT   SCHOOL 

ters  in  another  town  where  Major  Allen 
was  intimately  acquainted,  and  gave  the 
highest  satisfaction.  Bat  he  was  a  very  dif- 
ferent sort  of  person  from  Mr.  Frederic  Sil- 

verson,  of  the  city  of  ,  member  of  the 

junior  class  in  College.     This  young 

gentleman  did  not  teach  eight  weeks,  at 
eighteen  dollars  per  month,  for  the  sake  of 
the  trifling  sum  to  pay  his  college  bills,  and 
help  him  to  rub  a  little  more  easily  through. 
He  kept  for  fun,  as  he  told  his  fellow  bucks; 
that  is,  to  see  the  fashions  of  country  life, 
to  "cut  capers"  among  folks  whose  opin- 
ion he  didn't  care  for,  and  to  bring  back 
something  to  laugh  about  all  the  next  term. 
The  money,  too,  was  a  consideration,  as  it 
would  pay  a  bill  or  two  which  he  preferred 
that  his  very  indulgent  father  should  not 
know  of. 

Major  Allen  had  written  to  some  of  the 
college  authorities  for  an  instructor,  not 
doubting  that  he  should  obtain  one  of  prov- 
ed worth,  or  at  least  one  who  had  been  ac- 
quainted with  country  schools  in  his  boy- 
hood,  and  would    undertake    with  such 


AS    IT    WAS.  165 

motives  as  would  ensure  a  faithful  discharge 
of  his  duties.  But  a  tutor,  an  intimate  ac- 
quaintance of  Silverson's  family,  was  re- 
quested to  aid  the  self-rusticating  son  to  a 
school ;  so  by  this  means  this  city  beau  and 
college  buck  was  sent  to  preside  over  our 
district  seminary  of  letters. 

Well,  Mr.  Silverson  arrived  on  Saturday 
evening  at  Capt.  Clark's.  Sunday  he  went 
to  meetmg.  He  was,  indeed,  a  very  gen- 
teel-looking personage,  and  caused  quite  a 
sensation  among  the  young  people  in  our 
meeting-house,  especially  those  of  our  dis- 
trict. He  was  tall,  but  rather  slender,  with 
a  delicate  skin,  and  a  cheek  whose  roses 
had  not  been  uprooted  from  their  native  bed 
by  what,  in  college,  is  called  hard  digging. 
His  hair  was  cut  and  combed  in  the  newest 
fashion,  as  was  supposed,  being  arranged 
very  diflerently  from  that  of  our  young 
men.  Then  he  wore  a  cloak  of  many-col- 
ored plaid,  in  which  flaming  red,  however, 
was  predominant.  A  plaid  cloak — this  was 
a  new  thing  in  our  obscure  town  at  that 
period,  and  struck  us  with  admiration.     We 


166  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

had  seen  nothing  but  surtouts  and  great 
coats  from  our  fathers'  sheep  and  our  moth- 
ers' looms.  His  cravat  was  tied  behind  ; 
this  was  another  novelty.  We  had  never 
dreamed  but  that  the  knot  should  be  made, 
and  the  ends  should  dangle  beneath  the 
chin.  Then  his  bosom  flourished  \yith  a 
ruflle,  and  glistened  with  a  breast-pin, 
such  as  were  seldom  seen  so  far  among  the 
hills. 

Capt.  Clark  unconsciously  assumed  a 
stateliness  of  gait  unusual  to  him,  as  he  led 
the  way  up  the  centre  aisle,  introduced  the 
gentleman  into  his  pew,  and  gave  him  his 
own  seat,  that  is,  next  the  aisle,  and  the 
most  respectable  in  the  pew.  The  young 
gentleman,  not  having  been  accustomed  to 
such  deference  in  public,  was  a  little  con- 
fused ;  and  when  he  heard  "  That  is  the 
new  master  "  whispered  very  distinctly  by 
some  one  near,  and,  on  looking  up,  saw 
himself  the  centre  of  an  all-surrounding 
stare,  he  was  smitten  with  a  fit  of  bashful- 
ness,  such  as  he  had  never  felt  before.  So 
he  quiddled  with  his  fingers,  sucked  and 


AS    IT    WAS.  167 

bit  his  lips,  as  a  relief  to  his  feelings,  the 
same  as  those  rustic  starers  would  have 
done  at  a  splendid  party  in  his  mother's 
drawing-rooms.  During  singing,  he  was 
intent  on  the  hymn-book,  in  the  prayer  he 
bent  over  the  pew-side,  and  during  the  ser- 
mon looked  straight  at  the  preacher — a 
church-like  deportment  which  he  had  nev- 
er, perhaps,  manifested  before,  and  probably 
may  never  (lave  since.  He  was  certainly 
not  so  severely  decorous  in  that  meeting- 
house again.  After  the  forenoon  services, 
he  committed  a  most  egregious  blunder,  by 
which  his  bashfulness  was  swallowed  up 
in  shame.  It  was  the  custom  in  country 
towns  then  for  all  who  sat  upon  the  centre 
or  broad  aisle,  as  it  was  called,  to  remain 
in  their  pews  till  the  reverend  man  of  the 
pulpit  had  passed  along  by.  Our  city-bred 
gentleman  was  not  apprized  of  this  etiquette ; 
for  it  did  not  prevail  in  the  metropolis. 
Well,  as  soon  as  the  last  ameii  was  pro- 
nounced, Capt.  Clark  politely  handed  him 
his  hat ;  and,  beTng  next  to  the  pew  door, 
he  supposed  he  must  make  his  egress  first. 


168  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

He  stepped  out,  and  had  gone  several  feet 
down  the  aisle,  when  he  observed  old  and 
young  standing  in  Iheir  pews  on  both  sides, 
in  front  of  his  advance,  staring  at  him  as  if 
surprised,  and  some  of  them  with  an  incipi- 
ent laugh.  He  turned  his  head,  and  gave 
a  glance  back ;  and,  behold,  he  was  alone 
in  the  long  avenue,  with  a  double  line  of 
eyes  aimed  at  him  from  behind  as  well  as 
before.  All  seemed  waiting  for  the  minis- 
ter, who  by  this  time  had  just  reached  the 
foot  of  the  pulpit  stairs.  He  was  confound- 
ed with  a  consciousness  of  his  mistake. 
Should  he  keep  on  or  return  to  the  pew, 
was  a  momentary  question.  It  was  a  di- 
lemma worse  than  any  in  logic :  it  was  a 
severe  "  screw."  *  But  finally,  back  he 
was  going,  when,  behold,  Capt.  Clark's  pew 
was  blocked  up  by  the  out-poured  and  out- 
pouring throng  of  people,  with  the  minister 
at  their  head.     This  was  a  complete  "dead 

*  When  a  scholar  gets  considerably  pnzzled  in  recitation, 
he  is  said  in  college  to  take  a  screw.  When  he  is  so  ignorant 
of  his  lesson  as  not  to  be  able  to  recite  at  all,  he  takes  a  decuf 


AS    IT    WAS.  169 

set,"  "  above  all  Greek,  above  all  Roman 
fame."  What  should  he  do  now?  He 
wheeled  again,  dropped  his  head,  put  his 
left  hand  to  his  face,  and  went  crouching 
down  the  aisle,  and  out  of  the  door,  like  a 
boy  going  out  with  the  nose-bleed. 

On  the  ensuing  morning,  our  collegian 
commenced  school.  He  had  never  taught, 
and  had  never  resided  in  the  country  before. 
He  had  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  daily 
routine  usually  pursued  in  school,  from  a 
class-mate  who  had  some  experience  in  the 
vocation ;  so  he  began  things  right  end  fore- 
most, and  finished  at  the  other  extremity 
in  due  order  ;  but  they  were  most  clumsily 
handled  all  the  way  through.  His  first 
fault  was  exceeding  indolence.  He  had 
escaped  beyond  the  call  of  the  morning 
prayer-bell,  that  had  roused  him  at  dawn, 
and  he  seemed  resolved  to  replenish  his  na- 
ture with  sleep.  He  was  generally  awak- 
ened to  the  consciousness  of  being  a  school- 
master by  the  ringing  shouts  of  his  waiting 
pupils.  Then  a  country  breakfast  was  too 
delicious  a  contrast  to  college  commons  to 

15 


170  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

be  cut  short.  Thus  that  point  of  duration 
called  nine  o'clock,  and  school-time,  often 
approximated  exceedingly  near  to  ten  that 
winter. 

Mr.  Silverson  did  not  visit  in  the  several 
families  of  the  district,  as  most  of  his  pre- 
decessors had  done.  He  would  have  been 
pleased  to  visit  at  every  house,  for  he  was 
socially  inclined;  and  what  was  more,  he 
desired  to  pick  up  "food  for  fun  "  when  he 
should  return  to  college.  But  the  people 
did  not  think  themselves  "  smart "  enough 
to  entertain  a  collegian,  and  the  son  of  the 

rich  Mr. ,  of  the  city  of ,  besides. 

Or,  perhaps,  what  is  coming  nearer  the  pre- 
cise truth,  his  habits  and  pursuits  were  so 
different  from  theirs,  that  they  did  not  know 
exactly  how  to  get  at  him,  and  in  what 
manner  to  attempt  to  entertain  him ;  and 
he,  on  the  other  hand,  did  not  know  how 
to  fall  into  the  train  of  their  associations 
in  his  conversation,  so  as  to  make  them 
feel  at  ease,  and,  as  it  were,  at  home  with 
him.  Another  circumstance  ought  to  be 
mentioned,  perhaps.     The  people  very  soon 


AS    IT    WAS.  171 

contracted  a  growing  prejudice  against  our 
schoolmaster,  on  account  of  his  very  evi- 
dent unfitness  for  his  present  vocation,  and 
especially  his  unpardonable  indolence  and 
neglect  of  duty. 

So  Mr.  Silverson  was  not  invited  out,  ex- 
cepting by  Major  Allen,  who  engaged  him, 
and  by  two  or  three  others  who  chanced  to 
come  in  contact  with  him,  and  to  find  him 
more  sociably  disposed,  and  a  less  formida- 
ble personage,  than  they  anticipated.  He 
spent  most  of  his  evenings,  therefore,  at  his 
boarding  place,  with  one  volume  in  his 
hand,  generally  that  of  a  novel,  and  anoth- 
er volume  issuing  from  his  mouth, — that  of 
smoke ;  and,  as  his  chief  object  was  just  to 
kill  time,  he  was  not  careful  that  the  for- 
mer should  not  be  as  fumy,  as  baseless,  and 
as  unprofitable  as  the  latter.  As  for  the 
Greek,  Latin,  and  mathematics,  to  which 
he  should  have  devoted  some  portion  of  his 
time,  according  to  the  college  regulations 
he  never  looked  at  them  till  his  return. 
Then  he  just  glanced  thejn  over,  and  trust- 


172  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

ed  luck  when  he  was  examined  for  two 
weeks'  study,  as  he  had  done  a  hundred 
times  before  at  his  daily  recitation. 

What  our  young  college  buck  carried 
back  to  laugh  about  all  the  next  term,  I  do 
not  know,  unless  it  was  his  own  dear  self, 
for  being  so  foolish  as  to  undertake  a  busi- 
ness for  which  he  was  so  utterly  unfit,  and 
from  which  he  derived  so  little  pleasure, 
compared  with  his  anticipations. 

Before  closing  this  chapter,  I  would  cau- 
tion the  reader  not  to  take  the  subject  of  it 
as  a  specimen  of  all  heirs  of  city  opulence 
who  are,  or  have  been,  members  of  college, 
and  have  perhaps  attempted  country  school- 
keeping.  I  have  known  many  of  very  dif- 
ferent stamp.  One  gentleman  in  particular 
rises  to  recollection,  the  son  of  very  affluent 
but  also  very  judicious  parents.  While  a 
student  in  college,  he  look  a  district  school 
for  the  winter  vacation.  His  chief  purpose 
was  to  add  to  his  stores  of  valuable  knowl- 
edge, and  prepare  himself  for  wider  useful- 
ness.    He  would  not  study  the  things  of 


AS    IT    WAS.  178 

Ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  and  of  Modern 
Europe,  and  neglect  the  customs  and  man- 
ners, and  the  habits  of  thinking  and  feeUng, 
characteristic  of  his  own  nation.  Bat  his 
own  nation  were  substantially  the  farmers 
and  mechanics  scattered  on  the  hills  and  along 
the  valleys  of  the  country.  To  the  country 
he  must  therefore  go,  and  into  the  midst  of 
their  very  domestic  circles  to  study  them. 
But  he  did  not  seek  this  advantage  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  school  committed  to  his 
charge.  He  endeavored  to  make  himself 
acquainted  with  his  duties  as  much  as  he 
conveniently  could  beforehand,  and  then  he 
devoted  himself  assiduously  to  them.  In 
the  instruction  of  the  young  he  derived  a 
benefit  additional  to  his  principal  object  in 
taking  the  school.  He  learned  the  art  of 
communication, — of  adapting  himself  to 
minds  differing  in  capacity  and  cultivation 
from  his  own.  In  this  way  he  acquired  a 
tact  in  addressing  the  young  and  the  less 
intelligent  among  the  grown-up,  which  is 
now  not  only  a  gratification,  but  of  great 

15* 


174  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

use.  He  became,  moreover,  interested  in 
the  great  subject  of  education  more  than  he 
otherwise  would, — the  education  of  the 
great  mass  of  the  people,  so  that  now  he  is 
one  of  the  most  ardent  and  efficient  agents 
in  the  patriotic  and  benevolent  work. 

This  gentleman  was  exceedingly  liked  as 
a  teacher,  and  was  very  popular  as  a  visit- 
or in  the  families  of  the  district.  "  He 
seems  so  like  one  of  us.  He  hasn't  an  atom 
of  pride"  Such  were  the  frequent  remarks. 
And  this  was  what  they  did  not  expect  of 
a  collegian,  city  born,  and  the  son  of  one 
of  the  richest  men  in  the  state. 

He  has  often  remarked  since,  that  these 
two  months  spent  in  a  district  school  and 
country  neighborhood  were  of  as  much  val- 
ue to  him  as  any  two  months  of  his  life ; 
indeed,  of  more  value  than  any  single  year 
of  his  life.  His  books  enriched  and  disci- 
plined his  mind,  perhaps ;  but  this  ming- 
ling with  the  middle  rank,  of  which  the 
great  majority  is  composed,  more  thorough- 
ly Americanized  his  mind.      By  his  resi- 


AS    IT    WAS.  176 

dence  among  the  country  people,  he  learned 
to  do  what  should  be  done  by  every  citizen 
of  the  United  States,  however  distinguished 
by  birth,  wealth,  talents  or  education  :  he 
learned  to  identify  himself  with  the  great 
body  of  the  nation,  to  consider  himself  as 
"  one  of  the  people." 


176  THE    DISTKICT    SCHOOL 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A    COLLEGE   MASTER   AGAIN — HIS    CHARACTER   IN 
'  SCHOOL  AND    OUT — OUR    FIRST    ATTEMPTS    AT 
COMPOSITION — BRIEF     SKETCH     OF     ANOTHER 
TEACHER. 

My  twelfth  winter  has  arrived.  It  was 
thought  best  to  try  a  teacher  from  college 
again,  as  the  committee  had  been  assured 
that  there  were  teachers  to  be  found  there 
of  the  first  order,  and  well  worth  the  high 
price  they  demanded  for  their  services.  A 
Mr.  Ellis  was  engaged  at  twenty  dollars 
per  month,  from  the  same  institution  men- 
tioned before.  Particular  pains  were  taken 
to  ascertain  the  college  character,  and  the 
school-keeping  experience  of  the  gentleman, 
before  his  engagement,  and  they  were  such 
as  to  warrant  the  highest  expectations. 


AS    IT    WAS.  177 

The  instructor  was  to  board  round  in  the 
several  families  of  the  district,  who  gave 
the  board  in  order  to  lengthen  the  school  to 
the  usual  term.  It  happened  that  he  was 
to  be  at  our  house  the  first  week.  On  Sat- 
urday Mr.  Ellis  arrived.  It  was  a  great 
event  to  us  children  for  the  master  to  stop 
at  our  house,  and  one  from  college  too.  We 
were  smitten  with  bashfulness,  and  stiffen- 
ed into  an  awkwardness  unusual  with  us, 
even  among  strangers.  But  this  did  not 
last  long.  Our  guest  put  us  all  at  ease 
very  soon.  He  seemed  just  like  one  of  us, 
or  like  some  unpuffed-up  uncle  from  gen- 
teeler  life,  who  had  dropped  in  upon  us  for 
a  night,  with  cordial  heart,  chatty  tongue, 
and  merry  laugh.  He  seemed  perfectly  ac- 
quainted with  our  prevaihng  thoughts  and 
feelings,  and  let  his  conversation  slide  into 
the  current  they  flowed  in,  as  easily  as  if 
he  had  never  been  nearer  college  than  we 
ourselves.  With  my  father  he  talked  about 
the  price  of  produce,  the  various  processes 
and  improvements  in  agriculture,  and  the 
politics  of  the  day,  and  such  other  topics  as 


178  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

would  be  likely  to  interest  a  farmer  so  far 
in  the  country.  And  those  topics,  indeed, 
were  not  a  few.  Some  students  would  have 
satin  dignified orrather  dumpish  silence,  and 
have  gone  to  bed  by  mid-evening,  simply 
because  those  who  sat  with  them  could  not 
discourse  on  those  deep  things  of  science, 
and  lofty  matters  of  literature,  which  were 
particularly  interesting  to  themselves. 
With  my  mother  Mr.  Ellis  talked  at  first 
about  her  children.  He  patted  a  little 
brother  on  his  cheek,  took  a  sister  on  his 
knee,  and  inquired  the  baby's  name.  Then 
he  drew  forth  a  housewifely  strain  concern- 
ing various  matters  in  country  domestic 
life.  Of  me  he  inquired  respecting  my 
studies  at  school  years  past ;  and  even  con- 
descended to  speak  of  his  own  boyhood  and 
youth,  and  of  the  sports  as  well  as  the  du- 
ties of  school.  The  fact  is,  that  Mr.  Ellis 
had  always  lived  in  the  country  till  three 
years  past;  his  mind  was  full  of  rural  re- 
membrances ;  and  he  knew  just  how  to  take 
us  to  be  agreeable  himself,  and  to  elicit  en- 
tertainment in  return. 


AS    IT    WAS.  179 

Mr.  Ellis  showed  himself  at  home  in 
school,  as  well  as  at  the  domestic  fireside. 
He  was  perfectly  familiar  with  his  duties, 
as  custom  had  prescribed  them,  but  he  did 
not  abide  altogether  by  the  old  usages.  He 
spent  much  time  in  explaining  those  rules 
in  arithmetic  and  grammar,  and  those  pas- 
sages in  the  spelling-book,  with  which  we 
had  hitherto  lumbered  our  memories. 

This  teacher  introduced  a  new  exercise 
into  our  school,  that  we  had  never  thought 
of  before  as  being  possible  to  ourselves.  It 
was  composition.  We  hardly  knew  what 
to  make  of  it.  To  write — to  put  sentence 
after  sentence  like  a  newspaper,  a  book,  or 
a  sermon — oh!  we  could  not  do  this;  we 
could  not. think  of  such  a  thing;  indeed,  it 
was  an  impossibility.  But  we  must  try,  at 
any  rate.  The  subject  given  out  for  this 
novel  use  of  thought  and  pen  was  friend- 
ship. Friendship — what  had  we  to  say  on 
this  subject  1  We  could  feel  on  it,  perhaps, 
especially  those  of  us  who  had  read  a  novel 
or  two,  and  had  dreamed  of  eternal  friend- 


180  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

ship.  But  we  had  not  a  single  idea. 
Friendship !  oh  !  it  is  a  delightful  thing ! 
This,  or  something  similar,  was  about  all 
we  poor  creatures  could  think  of.  What  a 
spectacle  of  wretchedness  did  we  present !  A 
stranger  would  have  supposed  us  all  smitten 
with  the  toothache,  by  the  agony  expressed 
in  the  face.  One  poor  girl  put  her  head 
down  into  a  corner,  and  cried  till  the  master 
excused  her.  And,  finally,  finding  that 
neither  smiles  nor  frowns  would  put  ideas 
into  our  heads,  he  let  us  go  for  that  week. 
In  about  a  fortnight,  to  our  horror,  the 
exercise  was  proposed  again.  But  it  was 
only  to  write  a  letter.  Any  one  could  do  as 
much  as  this,  the  master  said;  for  almost 
every  one  had  occasion  to  do  it  in  the  course 
of  life.  Indeed,  we  thought,  on  the  whole, 
that  we  could  write  a  letter,  so  at  it  we 
went  with  considerable  alacrity.  But  our 
attempts  at  the  epistolary  were  nothing  like 
those  spirited,  and  even  witty,  products  of 
thought  which  used  ever  to  be  flying  from 
seat  to  seat  in  the  shape  of  billets.     The 


AS    IT    WAS.  181 

sprightly  fancy  and  the  gushing  heart 
seemed  to  have  been  chilled  and  deadened 
by  the  reflection  that  a  letter  must  be  writ- 
ten, and  the  master  must  see  it.  These 
epistolary  compositions  generally  began, 
continued,  and  closed  all  in  the  same  way, 
as  if  all  had  got  the  same  recipe  from  their 
grandmothers  for  letter  writing.  They 
mostly  commenced  in  this  manner  :  "  Dear 
friend,  I  take  ray  pen  in  hand  to  inform  you 
that  I  am  well,  and  hope  you  are  enjoying 
the  same  blessing."  Then  there  would  be 
added,  perhaps,  "  We  have  a  very  good 
schoolmaster;  have  you  a  good  one?  How 
long  has  your  school  got  to  keep?  We  have 
had  a  terrible  stormy  time  on't?"  «kc. 
Mark  Martin  addressed  the  master  in  his 
epistle.  What  its  contents  were  I  could  not 
find  out;  but  I  saw  Mr.  Ellis  read  it.  At 
first  he  looked  grave,  as  at  the  assurance  of 
the  youth ;  then  a  little  severe,  as  if  his 
dignity  was  outraged;  but  in  a  moment  he 
smiled,  and  finally  he  almost  burst  out  with 
laughter  at  some  closing  .witticism. 

16 


182  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

Mark's  was  the  only  composition  that  had 
any  nature  and  soul  in  it.  He  wrote  what 
he  thought,  instead  of  thinking  what  to 
write,  like  the  rest  of  us,  who,  in  the  effort, 
thought  just  nothing  at  all ;  for  we  wrote 
words  which  we  had  seen  written  a  hun- 
dred times  before. 

Mr.  Ellis  succeeded  in  delivering  us  from 
our  stale  and  flat  formalities  before  he  had 
done.  He  gave  us  no  more  such  abstract  and 
lack-idea  subjects  as  friendship.  He  learn- 
ed better  how  to  accommodate  the  theme  to 
the  youthful  mind.  We  were  set  to  de- 
scribe what  we  had  seen  with  our  eyes, 
heard  with  our  ears,  and  what  had  par- 
ticularly interested  our  feelings  at  one  time 
and  another.  One  boy  described  the  pro- 
cess of  cider-making.  Another  gave  an 
account  of  a  squirrel  hunt;  another  of  a 
great  husking;  each  of  which  had  been 
witnessed  the  autumn  before.  The  girls 
described  certain  domestic  operations.  One, 
I  remember,  gave  quite  an  amusing  ac- 
count of  the  coming  and  going,  and  final 


AS    IT    WAS.  183 

tarrying,  of  her  mother's  soap.  Another 
penned  a  sprightly  dialogue,  supposed  to 
have  taken  place  between  two  sisters  on 
the  question,  which  should  go  a  visiting 
with  mother,  and  which  should  stay  at 
home  and  "  take  care  of  the  things." 

The  second  winter  (for  he  taught  two), 
Mr.  Ellis  occasionally  proposed  more  ab- 
stract subjects,  and  such  as  required  more 
thinking  and  reasoning,  but  still  such  as 
were  likely  to  be  interesting,  and  on  which 
he  knew  his  scholars  to  possess  at  least  a 
few  ideas. 

I  need  not  say  how  popular  Mr.  Ellis 
was  in  the  district.  He  was  decidedly  the 
best  schoolmaster  I  ever  went  to,  and  he 
was  the  last. 

I  have  given  him  a  place  here,  not  be- 
cause he  is  to  be  classed  with  his  predeces- 
sors who  taught  the  district  school  as  it 
was,  but  because  he  closed  the  series  of  my 
own  instructors  there,  and  was  the  last,  more- 
over, who  occupied  the  old  school-house. 
He  comnienced  a  new  era  in  our  district. 


184  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

Before  closing,  I  must  give  one  necessary 
hint.  Let  it  not  be  inferred  from  this  nar- 
rative of  my  own  particular  experience, 
that  the  best  teachers  of  district  schools 
are  to  be  found  in  college  only.  The  very 
next  winter,  the  school  was  blessed  with 
an  instructor  even  superior  to  Mr.  Ellis,  al- 
though he  was  not  a  collegian.  Mr.  Henry, 
however,  had  well  disciplined  and  informed 
his  mind,  and  was,  moreover,  an  experi- 
enced teacher.  I  was  not  one  of  his  pupils ; 
but  I  was  in  the  neighborhood,  and  knew 
of  his  methods,  his  faithfulness,  and  suc- 
cess. His  tall,  spare,  stooping  and  dys- 
peptic form  is  now  distinctly  before  my 
mind's  eye.  I  see  him  wearied  with  inces- 
sant exertion,  taking  his  way  homeward  at 
the  close  of  the  afternoon  school.  His 
pockets  are  filled  with  compositions,  to  be 
looked  over  in  private.  There  are  school 
papers  in  his  hat  too.  A  large  bundle  of 
writing-books  is  under  his  arm.  Through 
the  long  evening,  and  in  the  little  leisure  of 
the  morning,  I  see  him  still  hard  at  work 


AS    IT    WAS.  185 


for  the  good  of  his  pupils.  Perhaps  he  is 
surrounded  by  a  circle  of  the  larger  schol- 
ars, whom  he  has  invited  to  spend  the 
evening  with  him,  to  receive  a  more 
thorough  explanation  of  some  branch  or 
item  of  study  than  there  was  time  for  in 
school.  But  stop — Mr.  Henry  did  not  keep 
the  district  school  as  it  was — why,  then, 
am  I  describing  him  7 


16* 


186  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE  EXAMINATION  AT  THE  CLOSING  OF  THE 
SCHOOL. 

The  district  school  as  it  was  generally 
closed,  in  the  winter,  with  what  was  called 
an  "  examination."  This  was  usually  at- 
tended by  the  minister  of  the  town,  the 
committee  who  engaged  the  teacher,  and 
such  of  the  parents  as  chose  to  come  in. 
Very  few,  however,  were  sufficiently  inter- 
ested in  the  improvement  of  their  children, 
to  spend  three  uncomfortable  hours  in  the 
hot  and  crowded  school-room,  listening  to 
the  same  dull  round  of  words,  year  after 
year.  If  the  school  had  been  under  the 
care  of  a  good  instructor,  all  was  well  of 
course;  if  a  poor  one,  it  was  too  laie  to 
help  it.  Or,  perhaps,  they  thought  they 
could  not  afford  the  time  on  a  fair  after- 
noon; and,  if  the  weather  was  stormy,  it 


AS    IT    WAS.  187 

was  rather  more  agreeable  to  stay  at  home ; 
besides,  "Nobody  else  will  be  there,  and 
why  should  I  go  7"  Whether  such  were 
the  reflections  of  parents  or  not,  scarcely 
more  than  half  of  them,  at  most,  ever  at- 
tended the  examination.  I  do  not  recollect 
that  the  summer  school  was  examined  at 
all.  I  know  not  the  reason  of  this  omission, 
unless  it  was  that  such  had  been  the  cus- 
tom from  time  immemorial. 

We  shall  suppose  it  to  be  the  last  day  of 
the  winter  school.  The  scholars  have  on 
their  better  clothes,  if  their  parents  are 
somewhat  particular,  or  if  the  every-day 
dress  "looks  quite  too  bad."  The  young 
ladies,  especially,  wear  the  next  best  gown, 
and  a  more  cleanly  and  tastefully  worked 
neckerchief.  Their  hair  displays  more 
abundant  curls  and  a  more  elaborate  ad- 
justment. 

It. is  noon.  The  school-room  is  under- 
going the  operation  of  being  swept  as  clean 
as  a  worn-out  broom  in  the  hands  of  one 
girl,  and  hemlock  twigs  in  the  hands  of 
others,  will  permit.     Whew — what  a  dust ! 


188  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

Alas  for  Mary's  cape,  so  snow-white  and 
smooth  in  the  morning!  Hannah's  curls, 
which  lay  so  close  to  each  other,  and  so 
pat  and  still  on  her  temples,  have  got  loose  by 
the  exercise,  and  have  stretched  themselves 
into  the  figure  of  half-straightened  cork- 
screws, nearly  unfit  for  service.  The  spirit 
of  the  house-wife  dispossesses  the  bland 
and  smiling  spirit  of  the  school-girl.  The 
masculine  candidates  for  matrimony  can 
now  give  a  shrewd  guess  who  are  endued 
with  an  innate  propensity  to  scold ;  who 
will  be  Xantippes  to  their  husbands,  should 
they  ever  get  their  Cupid's  nests  made  up 
again  so  as  to  catch  them.  "  Be  still, 
Sam,  bringing  in  snow,"  screams  Mary. 
"Get  away  boys,  off  out  doors,  or  I'll 
sweep  you  into  the  fire,"  snaps  out  Han- 
nah, as  she  brushes  the  urchins'  legs  with 
her  hemlock.  "There,  take  that,"  screech- 
es Margaret,  as  she  gives  a  provoking  lub- 
ber a  knock  with  the  broom  handle;  "there, 
take  that,  and  keep  your  wet,  dirty  feet 
down  off  the  seats." 

The  sweeping  and  scolding  are  at  length 


AS    IT    WAS.  189 

done.  The  girls  are  now  brushing  their 
clothes,  by  flapping  hankerchiefs  over  them- 
selves and  each  other.  The  dust  is  subsi- 
ding; one  can  almost  breathe  again.  The 
master  has  come,  all  so  prim,  with  his  best 
coat  and  a  clean  cravat ;  and,  may  be,  a  col- 
lar is  stiff  and  high  above  it.  His  hair  is 
combed  in  its  genteelest  curvatures.  He  has 
returned  earlier  than  usual,  and  the  boys  are 
cut  short  in  their  play, — the  glorious  fun  of 
the  last  noon-time.  But  they  must  all  come 
in.  But  what  shall  the  visitors  sit  on  1  "  Go 
up  to  Captain  Clark's,  and  borrow  some 
chairs,"  says  the  master.  Half  a  dozen 
boys  are  off  in  a  moment,  and  next,  more 
than  half  a  dozen  chairs  are  sailing,  swing- 
ing, and  clattering  through  the  air,  and  set 
in  a  row  round  the  spelling-floor. 

The  school  are  at  length  all  seated  at  their 
books,  in  palpitating  expectation.  The 
master  makes  a  speech  on  the  importance 
of  speaking  up,  "loud  and  distinct,"  and  of 
refraining  from  whispering,  and  all  other 
things  well  known  to  be  forbidden.  The 
writing-books   and  ciphering  manuscripts 


190  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

are  gathered  and  piled  on  the  desk,  or  the 
bench  near  it.  "  Where  is  your  manu- 
script, Margaret?"  "  I  carried  it  home  last 
night."  "Carried  it  home! — what's  that 
for?"  "Cause  I  was  ashamed  on't — 1 
haven't  got  half  so  far  in  'rethmetic  as  the 
rest  of  the  girls  who  cipher,  I've  had  to 
stay  at  home  so  much." 

A  heavy  step  is  heard  in  the  entry.  All 
is  hushed  within.  They  do  nothing  but 
breathe.  The  door  opens — it  is  nobody  but 
one  of  the  largest  boys  who  went  home  at 
noon.  There  are  sleigh-bells  approaching, 
— hark,  do  they  stop?  yes,  up  in  Captain 
Clark's  shed.  Now  there  is  another  tread, 
then  a  distinct  and  confident  rap.  The 
master  opens  the  door,  and  the  minister  sa- 
lutes him,  and,  advancing,  receives  the 
simultaneous  bows  and  courtesies  6f  the 
awed  ranks  in  front.  He  is  seated  in  the 
most  conspicuous  and  honorable  place,  per- 
haps in  the  magisterial  desk.  Then  some 
of  the  neighbors  scatter  in,  and  receive  the 
same  homage,  though  it  is  proffered  with  a 
more  careless  action  and  aspect. 


AS    IT    WAS.  191 

Now  commences  the  examination.  First, 
the  younger  classes  read  and  spell.  Observe 
that  little  fellow,  as  he  steps  from  his  seat 
to  take  his  place  on  the  floor.  It  is  his  day 
of  public  triumph,  for  he  is  at  the  head ;  he 
has  been  there  the  most  times,  and  a  nine- 
pence  swings  by  a  flaxen  string  from  his 
neck.  His  skin  wants  letting  out,  it  will 
hardly  hold  the  important  young  gentle- 
man. His  mother  told  him  this  morning, 
when  he  left  home,  "  to  speak  up  like  a 
minister,"  and  his  shrill  oratory  is  almost 
at  the  very  pinnacle  of  utterance. 

The  third  class  have  read.  They  are 
now  spelling.  They  are  famous  orthogra- 
phers ;  the  mightiest  words  of  the  spelling 
columns  do  not  intimidate  them.  Then 
come  the  numbers,  the  abbreviations,  and 
the  punctuation.  Some  of  the  little  throats 
are  almost  choked  by  the  hurried  ejection 
of  big  words  and  stringy  sentences. 

The  master  has  gone  through  with  the 
several  accomplishments  of  the  class.  They 
are  about  to  take  their  seats.  "Please  to 
let  them  stand   a  few  moments  longer,  I 


192  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

should  like  to  put  out  a  few  words  to  them, 
myself,"  says  the  minister.  Now  look  out. 
They  expect  words  as  long  as  their  finger, 
from  the  widest  columns  of  the  spelling-book, 
or  perhaps  such  as  are  found  only  in  the 
dictionary.  "  Spell  wrist,^^  says  he  to  the 
little  sweller  at  the  head.  "  O,  what  an 
easy  word  !  "  r-i-s-t,  wrist.  It  is  not  right. 
The  next,  the  next — they  all  try,  or  rather 
do  not  attempt  the  word ;  for  if  r-i-s-t  does 
not  spell  W7ist,  they  cannot  conceive  what 
does.  "Spell  gmon,  Anna."  G-o-u-n  d. 
"  O  no,  it  is  gown,  not  gound.  The  next 
try."  None  of  them  can  spell  this.  He  then 
puts  out  penknife,  which  is  spelt  without 
the  k,  and  then  andiron,  which  his  honor  at 
the  head  rattles  off  in  this  way,  "  h-a-n-d 
hand,  i-u-r-n  hand-iurn." 

The  poor  little  things  are  confused  as 
well  as  discomfited.  They  hardly  know 
what  it  means.  The  teacher  is  disconcerted 
and  mortified.  It  dawns  on  him,  that, 
while  he  has  been  following  the  order  of 
the  book,  and  priding  himself  that  so  young 
scholars  can  spell  such  monstrous    great 


AS    IT    WAS.  198 

words, — words  which  perhaps  they  will 
never  use,  they  cannot  spell  the  names  of 
the  most  familiar  objects.  The  minister  has 
taught  him  a  lesson. 

The  writing-books  are  now  examined. 
The  mighty  pile  is  lifted  from  the  desk, 
and  scattered  along  through  the  hands  of 
the  visitors.  Some  are  commended  for  the 
neatness  with  which  they  have  kept  their 
manuscripts ;  some,  for  improvement  in 
writing;  of  some,  probably  of  the  majority, 
is  said  nothing  at  all. 

"  Whew!  "  softly  breathed  the  minister, 
as  he  opened  a  writing-book,  some  of  whose 
pages  were  a  complete  ink-souse.  He  look- 
ed on  the  outside,  and  Simon  Patch  was  the 
name  that  lay  sprawling  in  the  dirt  which 
adhered  to  the  newspaper  cover.  Simon 
spied  his  book  in  the  reverend  gentleman's 
hands,  and  noticed  his  queer  stare  at  it. 
The  minister  looked  up;  Simon  shrunk  and 
looked  down,  for  he  felt  that  his  eye  was 
about  to  seek  him.  He  gazed  intensely  in 
the  book  before  him  without  seeing  a  word, 
at   the  same   time   earnestly   sucking  the 

17 


194  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

pointed  lapel  of  his  Sunday  coat  But  Si- 
mon escaped  without  any  audible  rebuke. 

Now  comes  the  arithmetical  examination ; 
that  is,  the  proficients  in  this  branch  are 
required  to  say  the  rules.  Alas  me  !  I  had 
no  reputation  at  all  in  this  science.  I  could 
not  repeat  more  than  half  the  rules  I  had 
been  over,  nor  more  than  the  half  of  that 
half  in  the  words  of  the  book,  as  others 
could.  What  shame  and  confusion  of  face 
were  mine  on  the  last  day,  when  we  came 
to  be  questioned  in  Arithmetic  !  But  when 
Mr.  Ellis  had  his  examination,  I  looked  up 
a  httle,  and  felt  that  I  was  not  so  utterly 
incompetent  as  my  previous  teachers,  to- 
gether with  myself,  had  supposed. 

Then  came  the  display  in  Grammar,  our 
knowledge  of  which  is  especially  manifest- 
ed in  parsing.  A  piece  is  selected  which  we 
have  parsed  in  the  course  of  the  school,  and 
on  which  we  are  again  drilled  so  as  to  be- 
come as  familiar  with  the  parts  of  speech, 
and  the  governments  and  agreements  of 
which,  as  we  are  with  the  buttons  and  but- 


AS    IT    WAS.  195 

ton-holes  of  our  jackets.  We  appear,  of 
course,  amazingly  expert. 

We  exhibited  our  talent  at  reading  like- 
wise, in  passages  selected  for  the  occasion, 
and  conned  over,  and  read  over,  until  the 
dullest  might  call  all  the  words  right,  and 
the  most  careless  mind  all'  the  "  stops  and 
marks." 

But  this  examination  was  a  stupid  piece 
of  business  to  me,  as  is  evident  enough 
from  this  stupid  account  of  it.  The  expec- 
tation and  preparation  were  somewhat  ex- 
hilarating, as  I  trust  has  been  perceived ; 
but,  as  soon  as  the  anticipated  scene  had 
commenced,  it  grew  dull,  and  still  more 
dull,  just  like  this  chapter. 

But  let  us  finish  this  examination,  now 
we  are  about  it.  Suppose  it  finished  then. 
The  minister  remarks  to  the  teacher, 
"  Your  school  appears  very  well,  in  general, 
sir;"  then  he  makes  a  speech,  then  a  pray- 
er, and  his  business  is  done.  So  is  that  of 
schoolmaster  and  school.  "  You  are 
dismissed  "  is  uttered  for  the  last  time  this 
season.     It  is   almost  dark,  and  but  little 


196  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

time  left  for  a  last  trip-up,  snow-ball,  or 
slide  down  hill.  The  little  boys  and  girls, 
with  their  books  and  dinner  baskets,  ride 
home  with  their  parents,  if  they  happen  to 
be  there.  The  larger  ones  have  some  last 
words  and  laughs,  together,  and  then  they 
leave  the  Old  SchooHiouse  till  December 
comes  round  again. 


AS    IT    WAS.  197 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THE  OLD  SCHOOL-HOUSE  AGAIN — ITS  APPEARANCE 
THE  LAST  WINTER — WHY  SO  LONG  OCCUPIED 
— A  NEW  ONE  AT  LAST.  * 

My  first  chapter  was  about  the  Old  School- 
house  :  so  shall  be  my  last.  The  declining 
condition  in  which  we  first  found  it,  has 
waxed  into  exceeding  infirmity  by  the 
changes  of  thirteen  years.  After  the  sum- 
mer school  succeeding  my  thirteenth  winter 
of  district  education,  it  was  sold  and  car- 
ried piece-meal  away,  ceasing  forever  from 
the  form  and  name  of  school-house. 

I  would  have  my  readers  see  how  the 
long-used  and  hard-used  fabric  appeared, 
and  how  near  to  dissolution  it  came  before 
the  district  could  agree  to  accommodate 
their  children  with  a  new  one. 

17* 


198  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

We  will  now  suppose  it  is  my  last  winter 
at  our  school.  Here  we  are  inside,  let  us 
look  around  a  little. 

The  long  writing-benches  arrest  our  at- 
tention as  forcibly  as  any  thing  in  sight. 
They  were  originally  of  substantial  plank, 
an  inch  and  a  half  thick.  And  it  is  well 
that  they  were  thus  massive.  No  board  of 
ordinary  measure  would  have  stood  the 
hackings  and  hewings,  the  scrapings  and 
borings,  which  have  been  inflicted  on 
those  sturdy  plank.  In  the  first  place,  the 
edge  next  the  scholar  is  notched  from  end 
to  end,  presenting  an  appearance  something 
like  a  broken-toothed  mill-saw.  Upon  the 
upper  surface,  there  has  been  carved,  or 
pictured  with  ink,  the  likeness  of  all  things 
in  the  heavens  and  on  earth  ever  beheld  by 
a  country  school-boy  ;  and  sundry  guesses 
at  things  he  never  did  see.  Fifty  years  has 
this  poor  timber  been  subjected  to  the  knives 
of  idlers,  and  almost  the  fourth  of  fifty  I 
have  hacked  on  it  myself;  and  by  this  last 
winter  their  width  has  become  diminished 


AS    IT    WAS.  199 

nearly  one-half,  There  are,  moreover,  in- 
numerable writings  on  the  benches  and 
ceilings.  On  the  boys'  side  were  scribbled 
the  names  of  the  Hannahs,  the  Marys,  and 
the  Harriets,  toward  whom  young  hearts 
were  beginning  to  soften  in  the  first  gentle 
meltings  of  love.  One  would  suppose  that 
a  certain  Harriet  A.  was  the  most  distin- 
guished belle  the  district  has  ever  produced, 
from  the  frequency  of  her  name  on  bench 
and  wall. 

The  cracked  and  patched  and  puttied 
windows  are  now  still  more  diversified  by 
here  and  there  a  square  of  board  instead  of 
glass. 

The  master's  desk  is  in  pretty  good  order. 
The  first  one  was  knocked  over  in  a  noon- 
time scuffle,  and  so  completely  shattered  as 
to  render  a  new  one  necessary.  This  has 
stood  about  ten  years. 

As  to  the  floor,  had  it  been  some  winters, 
we  could  not  have  seen  it  without  consider- 
able scraping  away  of  dust  and  various 
kinds  of  litter ;  for  a  broom  was  not  always 


200  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

provided,  and  boys  would  not  wallow  in 
Ihe  snow  after  hemlock,  and  sweeping  could 
not  so  well  be  done  with  a  stick.  This 
winter,  however,  Mr.  Ellis  takes  care  that 
the  floor  shall  be  visible  the  greater  part  of 
the  time.  It  is  rough  with  sundry  patches 
of  board  nailed  over  chinks  and  knot-holes 
made  by  the  wear  and  tear  of  years. 

Now  we  will  look  at  the  fire-place.  One 
end  of  the  hearth  has  sunk  an  inch  and  a 
half  below  the  floor.  There  are  crevices 
between  some  of  the  tiles,  into  which  coals 
of  fire  sometimes  drop  and  make  the  boys 
spring  for  snow.  The  andirons  have  each 
lost  a  fore-foot,  and  the  ofiice  of  the  impor- 
tant member  is  supplied  by  bricks  which 
had  been  dislodged  from  the  chimney-top. 
The  fire-shovel  has  acquired  by  accident  or 
age  a  venerable  stoop.  The  tongs  can  no 
longer  be  called  a  pair,  for  the  lack  of  one 
of  the  fellow-limbs.  The  bar  of  iron  run- 
ning from  jamb  to  jamb  in  front, — how  it  is 
bent  and  sinking  in  the  middle,  by  the  pres- 
sure of  the  sagging  fabric  above  !     Indeed 


AS    IT    WAS.  201 

the  whole  chimney  is  quite  ruinous.  The 
bricks  are  loose  here  and  there  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  the  fire-place ;  and  the  chimney-top 
has  lost  so  much  of  its  cement  that  every 
high  wind  dashes  off  a  brick,  rolling  and 
sliding  on  the  roof,  and  then  tumbling  to 
the  ground,  to  the  danger  of  cracking  what- 
ever heedless  skull  may  happen  in  the  way. 

The  window-shutters,  after  having  shat- 
tered the  glass  by  the  slams  of  many  years, 
have  broken  their  own  backs  at  length. 
Some  have  fallen  to  the  ground,  and  are 
going  the  way  of  all  things  perishable. 
Others  hang  by  a  single  hinge,  which  is 
likely  to  give  way  at  the  next  high  gale, 
and  consign  the  dangling  shutter  to  the 
company  of  its  fellows  below. 

The  clap-boards  are  here  and  there  loose, 
and  dropping  one  by  one  from  their  fasten- 
ings. One  of  these  thin  and  narrow  ap- 
pendages, sticking  by  a  nail  at  one  end,  and 
loose  and  slivered  at  the  other  sends  forth 
the  most  ear-rending  music  to  the  skillful 
touches  of  the  North-west.      In  allusion  to 


202  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

the  soft-toned  instrument  of  ^Eolus,  it  may- 
be termed  the  Borean  harp.  Indeed,  so 
many  are  the  avenues  by  which  the  wind 
passes  in  and  out,  and  so  various  are  the 
notes,  according  as  the  rushing  air  vibrates 
a  splinter,  makes  the  window  clatter,  whis- 
tles through  a  knot-hole,  and  rumbles  like 
big  base  down  the  chimney,  that  the  edifice 
may  be  imagined  uproarious  winter's  Pan- 
harmonicon,  *  played  upon  in  turn  by  all 
the  winds. 

Such  is  the  condition  of  the  Old  School- 
house,  supposing  it  to  be  just  before  we 
leave  it  forever,  at  the  close  of  my  thirteenth 
and  last  winter  at  our  district  school.  It 
has  been  resorted  to  summer  after  summer, 
and  winter  after  winter,  although  the  ob- 
servation of  parents  and  the  sensations  of 
children  have  long  given  evidence  that  it 
ought  to  be  abandoned. 

At  every  meeting  on  school  affairs  that 
has  been  held  for  several  years,  the  question 

*  The  Panharmonicon  is  a  large  instrament  in  which  the 
peculiar  tones  of  several  smaller  instruments  are  combined. 


AS    IT    WAS.  203 

of  a  new  school-house  has  been  discussed. ' 
All  agree  on  the  urgent  need  of  one,  and  all 
are  willing  to  contribute  their  portion  of  the 
wherewith ;  but  when  they  attempt  to  de- 
cide on  its  location,  then  their  harmonious 
action  is  at  an  end.  All  know  that  this 
high  bleak  hill,  the  coldest  spot  within  a 
mile,  is  not  the  place ;  it  would  be  stupid 
folly  to  put  it  here.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill 
on  either  side,  is  as  snug  and  pleasant  a 
spot  as  need  be.  But  the  East-enders  will 
not  permit  its  location  on  the  opposite  side, 
and  the  West-enders  are  as  obstinate  on 
their  part.  Each  division  declares  that  it 
will  secede  and  form  a  separate  district 
should  it  be  carried  further  off,  although  in 
this  case  they  must  put  up  with  much 
cheaper  teachers,  or  much  less  schooling,  or 
submit  to  twice  the  taxes. 

Thus  they  have  tossed  the  ball  of  discus- 
sion, and  sometimes  hurled  that  of  conten- 
tion, back  and  forth,  year  after  year,  to  just 
about  as  much  profit  as  their  children  have 
flung  snow-balls  in  play,  or  chips  and  cakes 


204  THE    DISTRICT    SCHOOL 

of  ice  when  provolced.  At  length  Time,  the 
final  decider  of  all  things  material,  wearied 
with  their  jars,  is  likely  to  end  them  by 
tumbling  the  old  ruin  about  their  ears. 

Months  have  passed ;  it  is  near  winter 
again.  There  is  great  rejoicing  among  the 
children,  satisfaction  among  the  parents, 
harmony  between  the  two  Ends.  A  new 
school-house  has  been  erected  at  last— in- 
deed it  has.  A  door  of  reconciliation  and 
mutual  adjustment  was  opened  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner. 

That  powerful-to-do,  but  tardy  personage, 
the  Public,  began  to  be  weary  of  ascending 
and  descending  Captain  Clark's  hill.  He 
began  to  calculate  the  value  of  time  and 
horse-flesh.  One  day  it  occurred  to  him 
that  it  would  be  as  "  cheap,  and  indeed 
much  cheaper,"  to  go  round  this  hill  at  the 
bottom  than  to  go  round  it  over  the  top ; 
for  it  is  just  as  far  from  side  to  side  of  a  ball 
in  one  direction  as  in  another,  and  this  was 
a  case  somewhat  similar.      He  perceived 


AS    IT    WAS.      .  205 

that  there  would  be  no  more  lost  in  the  long 
run  by  the  expense  of  carrying  the  road  an 
eighth  of  a  mile  to  the  south,  and  all  on 
level  ground,  than  there  would  be  by  still 
wasting  the  breath  of  horse  and  the  pa- 
tience of  man  in  panting  up  and  tottering 
down  this  monstrous  hill.  It  seemed  as  if 
he  had  been  blind  for  years,  not  to  have 
conceived  of  the  improvement  before.  No 
time  was  to  be  lost  now.  He  lifted  up  his 
many-tongued  voice,  and  put  forth  his 
many-handed  strength;  and,  in  the  process 
of  a  few  months,  a  road  was  constructed, 
curving  round  the  south  side  of  the  aforesaid 
hill,  which,  after  all,  proved  to  be  but  a  few 
rods  longer  from  point  to  point  than  the 
other. 

The  district  were  no  longer  at  variance 
about  the  long-needed  edifice.  The  afore- 
mentioned improvement  had  scarcely  been 
decided  on,  before  every  one  perceived  how 
the  matter  might  be  settled.  A  school- 
meeting  was  soon  called,  and  it  was  unani- 
mously agreed  to  erect  a  new  school-house 

18 


206 


THB    DISTRICT    SCHOOL. 


on  the  new  road,  almost  exactly  opposite 
the  old  spot,  and  as  equidistant  from  the 
two  Ends,  it  was  believed,  as  the  equator  is 
from  the  poles. 

Here  Mr.  Henry  taught  the  District 
School  somewhat  as  it  should  be ;  and  it 
has  never  since  been  kept  as  it  was. 


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